Stain the Night
by Jess J
Summary: Blade 2 AU. Jared Nomak wanted one thing. Revenge. But when he finds himself in the middle of a rivalry between his father's kind and another species he and even Blade weren't aware of, are things going to stay that simple?
1. Dirty Little Secret

Disclaimer: I own only the characters not mentioned in Blade or Blade 2, the rest belong to New Line, Marvel, David Goyer, etc. Ziodex Industries is borrowed from Underworld, which belongs to Danny McBride, Kevin Grevioux, Len Wiseman, and Sony. No copyright infringement intended, please, do not sue me. Savvy?

Author's note to be included in the first chapter, along with cast list for the story.

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PROLOGUE : DIRTY LITTLE SECRET

It always amused Ulric how Damaskinos treated him as though he was unaware of vampire culture, ignorant of they ways and methods. It was like dealing with someone who thought you could not hear or did not understand the language they were speaking.

But tonight Ulric found something else amusing. The fear emanating from the aging vampire. It hang around him like an invisible fog, the scent intoxicating and thrilling, but Ulric kept his usual calm, almost bored demeanor. He was enjoying Damaskinos' show of trying to pretend he was just as confident as his rival.

"So, while I think you for your offer to lend assistance in this dangerous time, you can see we do have the situation well in hand," Damaskinos finally ended his small explanation. His pallid, green-tinted skin, with blue veins showing through, was damp with cold sweat as he waited for Ulric to reply.

With his usual nonchalant smile, Ulric came off confident, self-assured, handsome, and in his prime. Which he was, though most had no idea the truth of that statement. His light brown hair came to his shoulders, almost straight except for the slightest wave. The lower half of his face was covered by a neatly trimmed beard, and his gray, not quite silver, eyes were had an old wisdom to them.

When he smiled, one got the impression he was either highly amused by some private joke, or he was thinking how easily it would be to rip out your heart.

Standing at full height, he was at least six feet, most likely a few inches over, his frame slender and muscular, with broad shoulders and long limbs. He wore elegant, old fashioned clothes, yet somehow always seemed sharp as any normal businessman. Even now, in nineteenth century style garb, with his long, black cane, he seemed current and imposing.

His right hand traced the pattern of the cane's handle, pure silver, shaped like a wolf's head, canines bared. The eyes were tiny rubies, which were exposed between his fingers. The silver went down five inches before meeting the black wood of the cane.

Ulric had noted long ago that Damaskinos always displayed the slightest sign of discomfort around the cane, so he had made it a habit to bring it along with him to these meetings with the vampire overlord.

"That is truly good to hear. But should anything happen, let me know. I do wish to be informed, to know if there is ever any threat to my kind," he finally replied to the vampire. He rose from his seat, bowing his head to Damaskinos. "Best of luck to the team."

"Many thanks to you, Sir Ulric," Damaskinos said back, standing as well as Ulric followed the lawyer familiar as he led Ulric back to his transport.

Melantha waited outside the Hummer, her long, midnight blue dress flowing in the wind. She smiled when she saw Ulric, though he could catch the faintest glimmer of contempt when her eyes spotted Kounen. She had never been fond of the lawyer.

"Good day to you, Sir Ulric," Kounen said softly before turning and walking back into the Caliban headquarters, home to much more than just the usual genetic projects and pharmaceutical experiments.

Ulric grinned as Melantha kissed his cheek once he reached her side. They both got back into the car, and Richard quickly turned the engine on, all of them ready to get back home.

Melantha turned her head to face Ulric. "So, how did it go?"

"Just as predicted. Damaskinos held to the story that Nomak was born that way, a normal vampire for the most part until just recently, when something triggered his virus to evolve and change him to another, completely different being," Ulric replied. "He says they have the situation under control, with the Blood Pack and Blade containing and killing off the Reapers swiftly."

Richard shook his head up in the front seat, smirking slightly. "Bullshit," he muttered.

"Yes, and it was obvious, even if I knew nothing pf the truth. Damaskinos was nervous, very nervous with the subject, his every word guarded and obviously thought out with care." Ulric grinned wolfishly. "I believe he nearly panicked when he found out I knew there was a problem at all."

Melantha growled softly. "Vampire bastard. Has the audacity to believe himself higher and wiser than our kind," she said with a scowl. "I do not know how anyone could ever object to showing the vampires once again which of us has more power."

"I know, my love," Ulric told her. He kissed her forehead, one arm wrapping around her shoulders as she let her head rest on the side of his chest. "But now we finally have found something that angers even the pacifists to war. We will reign publicly again soon," he assured her.

"Good."

***

Eli Damaskinos did not like surprises. He did not like being afraid. He did not like worrying. Right now, that's all he was facing. More surprises, more reasons to fear, to worry. It had been bad enough when Jared had turned into that creature he was now,.

Now his rival and most powerful enemy knew about the Reaper Strain, if not its origins. Still, Ulric had resources. That meant Damaskinos' people had a lot of cleanup work ahead of them this afternoon.

Because he was not about to allow Ulric to find out the truth concerning the new virus. It would be the downfall of the vampire race, even if Ulric did spare some of them. They would be nothing more than slaves, lower than humans even.

Over Damaskinos' dead body only would any such thing happen.

He was starting fear though, that this was not an improbable occurrence if he did not take care of any loose ends, any links to the truth that still existed on paper or in computers.

As soon as Kounen had returned from escorting Ulric out of the building, Damaskinos gave him his orders. "Go tell Faris to see that any and all evidence that Nomak was ever here is erased, destroy any leftover documents that concern the Reaper Strain," he told the lawyer. "I cannot have Ulric finding out what Caliban has really been doing."

Kounen nodded. "Of course," he replied before turning and leaving through another door. At least the lawyer was obedient, even if he did question Damaskinos' methods.

***

Nomak looked around, staring at all of the Reapers surrounding him, snarling and snapping at each other as they waited for sunset. He sniffed the air, his eyes unable to find the source of the strange smell he caught whiff of. He determined which direction it came from finally, and he jumped down from his perch, ignoring the surprised shrieks of the mindless crowd.

He headed down one of the tunnels, still sniffing every so often. He had never known such a smell. He could hear footsteps now, breathing as well. Whatever this being was, it was not human or vampire, not even a mix. Not Reaper either.

Wary, Nomak crawled up the wall of the tunnel, staying near the top as he went farther down, closing in on whatever was down here. As he crawled toward the scent, the sounds grew louder, and now he heard a voice, faint, speaking in another language before quieting again.

Abruptly Nomak stopped, hissing softly as he caught another scent, familiar this time. Vampire. Daywalker. The Blood Pack and Blade were in the tunnels now, and from the sound of talking in the same, foreign language by the others, they knew of the latest arrival as well.

He was about to turn, leave the strange beings, when their voices got a lot louder, and he heard them reaching the tunnel he was in.

"Jared Nomak?"

The male voice, thick with a Russian accent, spoke loud and clear from the end of the tunnel and Nomak's head snapped down so he could see the owner of the voice.

It had been a while since anyone called him by his first or whole name, and it had been months since anyone had called him Jared before he went to the blood bank. But to hear some unknown, but obviously humanoid being say it was confusing as well as surprising. Perhaps the confusion was why he nodded, despite his mind telling him to crawl away, quickly.

"Well, that makes this job a whole lot easier," said female, American voice, and Nomak could make out two more bodies next to the first, but the black attire they were and the dark lighting kept him from making out their faces.

"What are you?" he whispered, then heard the sound of shrieking. The vampires and Reapers were fighting now it sounded like. That was when he felt the sharp sting of a needle in his arm. He looked over, his vision already clouding as he saw a dart in his arm. Apparently, these people did not want him going anywhere.

Before Nomak could even try to figure out what the strangers were or wanted, he blacked out, falling from ceiling to the wet, dirty ground with a loud thud.


	2. The Race of

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. Savvy?

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CHAPTER ONE: THE RACE OF…

Nomak woke to the sound of a female voice humming, and the feel of metal around his wrists. He was propped against a wall, a corner it felt like. Blackness surrounded him, but he barely could move, and opening his eyes was a difficult task as well.

The sound of moaning filled his ears, but it wasn't until he felt a cool hand on his forehead that he realized he was the one moaning.

"I'm guessing you're starting to wake up now," the voice that had been humming said. Whoever was speaking was close, probably kneeling next to him. Also probably was the one touching him. She smelled strange, yet somehow familiar.

Like the strangers in the tunnel. Nomak's eyes shot open and he stood, struggling with the metal bonds on his wrists. But the shackles held tight even with his strength. He saw his movements had sent the female back onto the floor, and he growled at her as she stood, backing away.

She was not that tall, but she still had a long-limbed appearance, with an elegant, confident stance as she glared at him with silvery eyes. Blonde hair was pulled back tightly in a pony tail, and she wore black slacks with a crimson, sleeveless shirt that made her skin seem paler than many vampires', but she looked out of place in their surroundings.

A lab. Nomak hated labs.

"Where am I?!" he demanded, still struggling with the chains. He stared down at himself, noticing his feet were bare. Then he realized his coat, the hood, all but the gray, sleeveless shirt he wore underneath everything and his pants, had been taken.

Growling, he looked around and saw another female, human and dark-skinned, standing a little farther away.

She was holding a needle, watching him closely. "Calm down, we're not trying to hurt you," she told him. Her voice wasn't placating, she didn't speak to him as if he were a child or could not comprehend English. Her statements were matter of fact, to the point.

And it was more believable than if she had tried to be placating.

Nomak stopped struggling, but he stood still and rigid, tense. His eyes kept glancing down at her right hand, at the needle it was holding. "Where am I?" he asked, voice a soft hiss this time. He glanced at the needle again.

He hated needles. More than labs.

The human female realized the hypo in her hand was agitating him, and she set it down before taking a few steps closer. "You're somewhere safe, where the vampires and Blade can't reach you. I need to give you that shot," she told him, pointing to the needle she had just set aside. "It will help rid you of the aftereffects of the sedative we gave you."

Nomak glared at her, body completely still. He glanced at the other female, who was standing just as still, her gaze going back and forth from Nomak to the human, waiting to see what would happen. Nomak let his form relax, and almost smirked when the human reached and picked the needle back up hesitantly.

She neared him, her eyes never leaving his until she finally reached him, and she let her eyes go to his arm so she could find a vein.

Sniffing the air around her, Nomak smiled. "You're afraid," he whispered and opened his mouth, lunging at the woman. He grabbed the needle, but before he could attach it to her neck, he felt a punch to his gut, one that actually hurt.

"Meira!"

Nomak backed away from the two females, crouching on his knees in the corner, glaring at them like a cornered cat. He looked over to where the new, male voice had come from.

A tall, elegantly dressed man had entered the lab room, his gray, not quite silver, eyes glowered at the pale female. "I think it would be best if you two ladies left the room," he told them. His voice was cultured, edgy, a threat veiled in silk.

The pale female, Meira must have been her name, Nomak surmised, bowed her head as if in shame. She nodded without looking up and followed the human out of the room, leaving Nomak and this new stranger alone.

The male had the same scent as the pale female and the others from the tunnels. It was unnerving, unfamiliar, something Nomak could not place or name.

"Please, forgive Meira, she is quite protective of Karen, the woman you attacked," the male explained, smiling warmly at Nomak. He neared the Reaper, and pressed a button on a console close by. "And I do apologize about those," he continued when the shackles holding Nomak opened and fell off his wrists. "But they were necessary until you woke and we could calm you down."

Nomak stared warily at the male, his fingers rubbing his wrists soothingly. He almost repeated his question of where was he, but he kept silent, sizing up this newcomer. He didn't seem to be an immediate threat, and he did not seem to mean any harm towards Nomak at the moment.

Perhaps now was one of those times where he just played along. Considering he was burning with a fierce hunger and his side hurt from the punch to his empty stomach, he did not feel like putting up a struggle unless he knew he could take his opponent.

"Let me introduce myself," the male said as he came up to Nomak. "My name is Ulric. And you are Jared Nomak, correct?" he asked, but it was obvious he didn't need any confirmation.

Nomak nodded anyway as he stood up, now at the same height as this, Ulric. His eyes narrowed with distrust. "So, Ulric, who the hell are you?" he asked in almost a commanding tone, his head held high. He had not stood like this in quite some time, but for some reason, he felt it was best in this situation.

Ulric found it amusing at least, if the grin he was wearing was any indication. "Well, at least you're not boring and asked the right question. But who I am is a long story that must be made short. I am the one your father fears most. I am the reason you were created, the reason why Damaskinos wishes to make his race invincible."

Nomak tilted his head to the side, confused. As far as he knew, the pure and supreme race his father was trying to create was simply because of the Daywalker and to finally rule over humanity in the open.

"You don't understand yet, I know," Ulric continued, noticing Nomak's puzzlement. He walked towards the door, glancing back at Nomak briefly. "Come with me, you should stretch your legs and get a feel of the place instead of just stand around listening to an old man rant."

Following Ulric out of the lab, Nomak smirked slightly. "You certainly talk as much as an old man," he remarked, looking around at the lavish hallway they were walking through.

The lab had been just as a lab should be. Sparse, clean, sanitized. But the hallway was a drastic contrast, with dark blues, pale grays, shining silvers, and obsidian blacks. The carpet was the color of the midnight sky, the walls the shade of steel, and there were windows with black blinds and silver curtains on the one side of the hallway every five feet.

"I like you, Jared. Or would you prefer Nomak?" Ulric asked.

"Nomak."

Ulric nodded. "You must be starving," Ulric suddenly said out of the blue. "Where are my manners today, come, follow me. You need to feed," he said, not waiting for an answer as he turned down a corridor.

Slightly thrown off by the abrupt change of subject and by the prospect of food, Nomak silently followed Ulric's lead. The male whatever he was had quite a complex personality from what Nomak had glimpsed.

From grim anger to stoic dismissal to warm greeting to jovial hosting, Ulric had changed to each swiftly and without any seams or hints at the changes. They all flowed into each other, his personality as smooth as his voice.

Nomak wasn't crazy about it. It was unpredictable and nearly impossible to read. It would put him at a disadvantage should they end up on different sides of the board. Though honestly, he was confused about sides and games and just what was really going on. He had thought he'd known.

The game was set, his father and vampires on one side, Blade and his precious humans on the other, even if they didn't know it. And Nomak with his kind stuck in the crossfire and turning it all upside down. He had thought he'd known the whole game.

But it was quite obvious he hadn't.

Because everything just got turned upside down on him once again.

---

Vladimir relished the Change. He relished the beast he became, the beast he always was beneath the human skin and constricting flesh when not in wolfen form. But what he loved even more, was the chance to fight a challenging opponent in his wolfen form.

He was finally getting the chance after so long a wait. Vampires hardly posed any threat. He could easily rip off their heads or claw out their hearts. But Reapers, well, it was time he found out just how hard they were to kill.

The Reaper was looking around, sniffing, confusion on its ugly face, and it eyed the huge, unknown creature before it with a mixture of fear and hunger.

In his true form, Vladimir stood over seven feet tall, his chestnut hair becoming long, shaggy fur that covered his entire body. His eyes were amber and wide, his jowls pulled back in a snarl, long, sharp fangs dripping with hot saliva exposed. His body was broad and somewhere between wolf, bear, and man, the fur thick. His ears were tall and pointed, but were laying flat against his head as he suddenly growled and charged the Reaper.

Surprised and baffled, the Reaper shrieked and jumped up onto the wall, crawling up, trying to avoid this unfamiliar beast. But Vladimir growled softly, almost as if chuckling, and leapt up, his razor sharp claws gripping the wall and he crawled after the Reaper, which almost immediately dropped.

Dropping into a crouch, Vladimir pounced onto the Reaper, clawing at its neck. But the creature hissed and shoved the beast off, getting up and opening its mouth wide. It tried to latch onto Vladimir's arm, but he quickly grabbed the Reaper and threw it into the wall, the body leaving a dent from the force of the impact.

The Reaper again opened its mouth wide, its long tongue coming out as it roared once it got up, but the only response it got was a ferocious howl from Vladimir before he charged the creature and brought it to the ground. Quickly, he ripped out the tongue, amber, sticky blood splattering his muzzle and chest, before breaking one side of the lower jaw.

A pitiful shriek was let out by the creature as best it could with its mouth and throat destroyed and filling with its own gooey blood.

Snarling down at it, Vladimir suddenly slammed his palm down on the things chest, pressing down with so much force, the Reaper's ribs finally broke and crushed down. He backed away, shifting into a smaller, human shape as the creature shrieked and burned, the bones protecting the heart crushed and piercing it now.

Fully transformed back to human form, Vladimir curled his lip in contempt at the ashes before him, then turned and walked out of the room. There had hardly been a fight, hardly a challenge, and Vladimir did not feel any triumph or the satisfaction of victory. There was no victory in the slaughter of helpless worms.

He strode back to his rooms, the others barely paying any attention to the blood spattered, naked male walking down the hall.

Once cleaned and dressed, he would find Ulric and inform him of the easy kill.

---

Meira looked up when she heard the door of the conference room being opened, Ulric entering the room. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw who was following him.

The Reaper, Nomak.

She quickly looked away, bowing her head in difference to the head alpha as he walked to the long table in the room. Meira sat between her mother and Karen, the former eyeing Nomak with a mixture of interest and boredom while Meira and Karen simply ignored him altogether.

Though Karen probably ignored him simply to keep from provoking him into a second attack, as Meira would not have been surprised if he simply shot across the table and drained Karen dry if she merely looked at him oddly.

But then again, it could just be Meira's instant distaste for the walking experiment talking.

The door at the other end of the room opened, and in walked Richard and regally dressed vampire diplomat, his head held high until his eyes landed on the sight of the first Reaper. Then his head lowered slightly as his eyes widened in shock.

"What, what is that thing doing here?!" he asked, his voice shaky and filled with cowardice. The sight and sound of him disgusted Meira, his fear permeating the room now.

Ulric gave a slight shrug as Melantha walked up to him, taking her place next to her mate. "He is a guest of ours. Now, before we can conduct business, our guest must eat, as he has not fed in a several hours and that can be quite unhealthy for him and his kind, as I am sure you know," the head alpha replied nonchalantly, his expression calm and blank.

Even when Nomak jumped over the table and grabbed the vampire diplomat, quickly latching into the shrieking coward, Ulric's expression remained emotionless and neutral. The sounds of flesh and blood being sucked down crudely made Meira slightly hungry herself, and she noticed some of the others appeared to feel the same.

Finally the Reaper dropped the body, wiping his mouth clean and turning back to the table while Richard glanced down at the vampire he had come with, eyeing it before looking at Ulric, who nodded.

Nomak arched an, well, what would have been an eyebrow had he possessed any hair on his skin. He looked to Richard, who was now telling one of the guards at the door to carry the body out into the sunlight. Once his curiosity was sated as well as his hunger, Nomak walked over to the table and sat down at the chair at the opposing end of the table from Ulric.

"Thanks for the meal," he said in a quiet tone, his voice hoarse and dry. He spoke as if whispering with a sore throat, but Meira suspected that was due to the opening of the lower jaw down to the neck and his unusual tongue.

"More than welcome," Ulric stated warmly as he sat down at the head of the table, Melantha taking the seat at his left. "Now, let's get down to business. First, has the human male we picked up along with Nomak woken yet?"

Karen shook her head. "Not yet, but I'll be paged as soon as he does if I'm not there," she informed Ulric. "I'll need to make certain there are no more traces of vampirism in his blood, even though it's highly unlikely seeing as he's survived sunlight."

Ulric nodded. "Good. Has Vladimir completed his little experiment yet?"

"I have, but should we discuss that in front of, certain people?" came a confident, smug voice with a heavy Russian accent said with a snide tone as Vladimir walked into the room, sitting at Ulric's right side, across from Melantha.

Meira rolled her eyes and looked away from that end of the table, not wishing to let Vladimir even try to make eye contact with her. She looked down at the other end and saw that Nomak had understood clearly just who Vladimir had been talking about when he said "certain people", and was not pleased about it. She noted how he sat, upright and straight, as if he had been trained to be someone important, someone at meetings like this.

Of course, he probably had been taught to sit that way, act that way, even if he was to be kept a secret.

Ulric though, quickly put Vladimir back in his place, placating Nomak and delighting Meira. "Vladimir, that is no way to speak of such an honored guest as the son of the vampire ruler and the first of a new species. Especially a species that feeds on our enemies."

The beta male lowered his head in submission and slight shame. "Yes, Sir. Forgive my rudeness."

Nomak let out soft snort, and Meira glanced at him briefly, making eye contact for a moment. He and Vladimir were already not getting along. Perhaps she should alter her opinion of the Reaper. She then focused her attention on Ulric as the meeting continued, the high alpha skipping the subject of Vladimir's test for now.

---

Blade groaned as he opened his eyes, slowly adjusting to the lighting of the, wait. He wasn't in the tunnels. He wasn't facing off Reapers. He wasn't with the Bloodpack. He was, he didn't know where the Hell he was as he pushed himself off the floor.

"We're in some sort of lab, chamber thing," he heard Scuds' voice say as he stood and turned to glance at Scuds standing a few feet away. "The vampires found us, came and got the survivors out of the tunnels and brought them here. The old guy is acting nervous, something's freaking him out," the young human explained.

Looking around, Blade saw a few guards posted at specific places, and then he saw Damaskinos entering, flanked by Kounen. But no sign of Nyssa. He knew he probably shouldn't have even thought of her. He also shouldn't have let her drink his own blood.

"A there has been new development," Damaskinos croaked out as he neared Blade. "And now I am forced to give you information I never wanted you to hear. I must tell you a secret that was hoped to be kept from any hunters of our kind not of their race."

Blade raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, 'their race'?" Something was definitely up, and he didn't like finding out he'd been in the dark about something this important to the vampires.

Damaskinos glowered at him, obviously loathing the situation and having to give out information to his enemy that could possibly give him the advantage. "You think you know so much, you know all our secrets and all our weaknesses, and that we run everything and that we are humanity's greatest threat."

"You are," Blade stated with contempt.

Damaskinos smirked coldly. "You are a fool. We are not their greatest threat. Nor is Nomak and any Reapers he might create. No, the greatest threat to your beloved weaklings is a whole different race."

Blade glanced at Scuds as the young man walked up to Blade's side, listening intently to the wizened vampire overlord as well, both of them waiting for this other race to be revealed.

When Damaskinos spoke again though, he spoke in a hushed tone and in the vampiric tongue. "The race of lycanthropes."


	3. Relations

Disclaimer: I do not own Blade, Whistler, Damaskinos (like anyone would claim him), Scud (thank goodness), Karen, or Nomak (which completely sucks, but the main reason I'm writing this is Nomak), or anyone else from the Blade franchise. I do, however, own all the werewolves. Which I'm proud of. But anyway, I make no claim on Blade or anyone from it, just writing this for fun and for NightSlash. Please due not sue me. Savvy?

* * *

CHAPTER TWO: RELATIONS

Beep, beep.

Ulric gazed over at Karen. "It sounds like our human guest has woken up finally, Karen. Please, go see that he is made comfortable and doesn't have a heart attack from yelling and trying to get some answers," he instructed with a warm smile.

Karen nodded and rose from her chair at the table, quickly heading out of the room. The others watched her leave, before returning their attention on Ulric. Though Meira caught Vladimir sending glances her way, his expression blank, but Meira could catch the want in his eyes.

"You know, it's rather distracting when you do that."

Everyone turned to stare at Nomak in surprise at his sudden statement, most of the others confused. Meira though wondered if he had noticed Vladimir's actions as well, since Vlad was next to Ulric, and Ulric was directly in front of Nomak.

"I would like to be able to focus in on what your head guy is saying, not think to myself, 'If he glances at that female one more time, I will break his jaw open,' considering I am rather comfortable where I'm sitting," the Reaper continued, smiling briefly at Vladimir.

Melantha and Silvia smirked while Meira kept her expression indifferent. Ulric had an unreadable expression, while the others were all chuckling. Richard was snickering, but trying to cover his mouth as Vladimir sent him a death glare.

"Vladimir, do keep your attention focused on the meeting," Ulric told the other male softly. "You may try to court Meira once we are adjourned."

Bristling slightly, Meira had to turn away from both males at the thought of Vladimir getting Ulric's approval to court her. She had hoped the alpha would put a stop to the unwanted advances, but he seemed to not take it too seriously.

"Which is, for everyone but you, Vlad, now," Ulric then said. "Meira, would you escort Nomak to his quarters here, and apologize for punching him earlier?" Ulric asked of her, but she knew it would be unwise to say no.

You could disagree with a pack alpha, but not Ulric.

As she tried to hold back a sigh, Meira got up from her chair and walked out of the room, not turning to see if the Reaper was following until she was out in the hall. When she did turn, Nomak was right behind her.

"Aren't you supposed to tell me something?" he asked with his soft, gravelly voice. His expression was as unreadable as Ulric's usually were.

Meira bit back a snaky reply and swallowed, feeling as though she was literally swallowing her pride. "I'm sorry for punching you earlier. There, I said it. Follow me." Without waiting for him to say anything more, she turned and started walking down the hallway, taking the first right.

"You don't seem to like me," Nomak stated after a few minutes of silence. "I don't think I'm held much higher in your opinion than that lovesick puppy of yours."

"How do you know you're higher?" Meira shot back, her voice clipped.

"Am I not?" he simply asked her.

Meira almost growled, hating that he was so confident. She was even more angry that he was indeed right. But at least he wasn't overly cocky about it. After several tense moments, at least for her, she sighed and nodded. "You are."

The Reaper smirked. "Thought so. Glad I am, or I would be insulted and I would have to inform your leader that you were rude to me."

"Snitch."

"Bitch."

* * *

Ulric waited until everyone but Melantha had left, then turned to his mate and kissed her full and fiercely. "I will tell you what was discussed later, my love. But for now, need you to make sure that the Reaper, Meira, and our other guest do not cause too many problems," he whispered to her warmly, nuzzling her.

Melantha's dark eyes met his, and she nodded understandingly. "Of course." She leaned in, whispering directly into his ear. "I will be waiting for you in our bedchambers," she told him, then rose from her seat and left him with the beta male.

"What did you learn?" Ulric questioned Vladimir, even as he continued to watch his mate stride out of the meeting room. He did so love to watch her move, every motion she made beautiful and graceful, her carriage that of a leader, her body filled with lethal elegance. But now was not the time to think on his mate. He turned back to his second in command, who finally started to speak now that he knew he had the alpha's attention.

"It was not as pathetic as a vampire kill, but it was far too easy," Vladimir informed Ulric. "Their weaknesses are their mouths and hearts, which are protected by thick bone, I could feel it. Very strong, but not enough for us when in lycan form, and probably not even a real difficulty for you even in this form," he said, a mixture of disappointment and pride in his eyes.

Ulric smirked to himself, digesting the information. He knew the reason for both. The former was because of the lack of a challenge, the latter because he thought he could beat Nomak just as easily. But the alpha male was fairly certain that Nomak was different. He was intelligent for one thing, he had evolved into this thing and was its carrier, and he seemed to have toned his vampiric and now Reaper strength.

Jared Nomak was not like the zombie vampires his victims and their victims and so on became. He was taught by Damaskinos, and the vampire overlord probably had his "son" tutored in some areas at least. Probably no training in combat, too risky, as proven. But the original Reaper could learn, and had already, that much was certain.

The alpha knew a fighter when he saw one.

"This is good to know, Vladimir," he stated, a small smile on his lips. "Now, you should go and make sure everyone is ready for the hunt tonight. We need to make sure that the Daywalker took care of the rest of Nomak's kind," he instructed.

Vladimir nodded and bowed his head in submission, then rose to walk out of the room himself. He seemed annoyed that he had not been given the order to kill Nomak, but would never question Ulric.

Though there was something else he needed instruction with.

"And Vladimir, give the poor girl a break. She doesn't want you, don't pester her into snapping at your heels," he reprimanded, though with humor and amusement in his voice. He grinned when he heard the beta growl low in his throat and storm out of the room.

"Now, my dear mate, it is time for me to end your waiting," Ulric whispered to himself, and quickly stood from his chair and left, striding briskly to their shared chambers. It was several turns down several hallways until he finally reached the door to their first room, and he swiftly entered and locked the door once it was closed.

He wasn't the kind to take chances when it came to time with his mate.

Going ahead and removing his shirt before walking into their bedchamber, he could smell the exquisite scent of her, fresh and clean after a warm shower that was cool enough to keep her awake, but warm enough to relax her and ready her for his touch.

The alpha opened the door to their bedroom and saw her lying on the bed, her dark eyes hidden beneath their lids, her black hair splayed out on the midnight colored sheets, her dark skin glowing gold, set off by the paleness of her silvery gown. Her breath was steady and even, but she was awake, aware of his stare.

She finally moved, opening her eyes and sitting up. A soft smirk played on her features as she saw Ulric's silver irises fill his eyes, his lips forming a wolfish grin, predatory and promising sweet nips and fierce kisses.

"You, my dear, are lovely," he whispered, voice already husky and thick. He watched her smirk grow wider and prouder, and he couldn't control the wolf instincts. Pouncing finally, he quickly caught her wrists in his hands as his mouth crushed against hers. She shivered and shuddered under him, moaning into his mouth as her legs rubbed against his, rubbed against his arousal, urging him on.

"And you, my love, are delectable," she replied when he parted their mouths so that he could kiss the skin exposed to him. She arched up, mewling and purring and growling her approval, her own irises darkening to black.

"I could say the same for you, Melantha," he whispered against her collar bone before nipping the skin above it. "Delectable, delicious, divine," he continued between each nip, until he reached the neckline of her nightgown. "And probably uncomfortable in this barrier between us," he said cheekily.

Melantha smiled, then broke her wrists free of his grip and flipped him over, now straddling him in a very pleasant and teasing manner. "As uncomfortable as you now are in your pants, I believe," she said with her own impish grin to match his tone. Then she did something evil and taunting - she began to grind her hips down against his, promising but not yet giving.

Ulric growled and grunted, writhing and grinding his hips up, returning the favor, though she appeared to be winning for the moment. "My love, stop this torture," he begged. He was alpha male. He never begged.

Except to his queen wolf.

Taking pity on him, and herself most likely, Melantha moved down and unzipped his pants, then pulled them down until he could kick them off his ankles. She grabbed the hem of her gown, but Ulric shook his head and reached for it himself.

"My turn," he told her and she complied, lifting her arms so that he could remove the garment to expose the rest of her golden hued skin to his eyes, the sight more beautiful than buried treasure, and just as valuable. His fingers delicately, reverently, brushed over her thighs and hips, then stomach, until he moved his hands to cup her breasts.

Soft gasps and gentle shivers were the responses he earned from her, making him smile adoringly at her face, mouth parted slightly, eyes shut, though not tightly, her head slightly back. She was a goddess of the hunt, fire and wolf and pure forest with the scent of beautiful nights, and she bowed to him.

Except in this room, where she was queen, he was servant, and when she pleased him, it was only because she reminded him she was indeed queen in this room and it was her desire.

Ulric sat up, kneading her breasts as he devoured her exposed throat, suckling and nipping and kissing as his fingers teased her mercilessly, making her moa for more, more that she would get. He kissed down her neck and chest as his hands moved to her back, holding her up as he suckled and nipped and teased with tongue and teeth, sharp but never breaking skin.

Melantha was moaning and gasping, her skin starting to moisten with sweat as he felt a dampness between her kegs press into him, near his own arousal, and he growled, moving his mouth up to kiss her hungrily. She gripped his shoulder, pressing herself against him, returning the kiss with her own hunger.

"Ulric, please, I have waited long enough," she finally whispered when the kiss ended, only for his mouth to find hers again after she spoke.

"I know, my queen, I know," he told her after flipping them back over, and his hands stroked her inner thighs, up to her hips, and he found a firm yet tender grip there. "And I will try to make amends for forcing you to wait on my."

He thrust, entering tight, wet heat, growling as he felt her claw at his back, her eyes clenching shut as she cried out. He could see the slight relief and the plea for the full release only he had ever given her, and he pulled out, almost whimpering at the loss, but was back in his home again within seconds. He continued, fast and steady, his mouth tasting her skin and the salty sweat of it, arousal filling the air, filling his nostrils, making his head swim as he began to lose his hold over himself.

"Let go, my king," she whispered, a whimper and a plea, a warning of her approaching release, and he did as she commanded, letting out a howl as he came inside her, powerful and hot and blinding. She followed suite, letting out her own pleasured howl, a beautiful song that he relished, as she was trembling violently in his arms as her own rapture swept through her.

And then the peak of it was gone, leaving them riding the dying waves that left them panting and sated on the bed, tangled and touching, tender kisses all they could manage for the moment. Bathed in sweat and afterglow, they held each other as tightly as their limbs could, nuzzling like the wolves they were inside.

* * *

Vladimir walked into the training room just in time to see the latter half of two turned werewolves sparring session. He knew from the scent and their wolfen forms that they were turned, Aysel and Donovan.

The two were almost identical in lycan form, with two tall, fierce animals in bodies that were only bipedal, Donovan seven feet tall, Aysel just three inches shorter. Their heads and faces were almost panther-like, with eyes that were narrowed almost to slits, Donovan with jet black, Aysel with a silver hued pair. Her skin was dark gray, with darker, course fur on her head and a few other places, the same for Donovan with his black skin and fur.

Vladimir smirked as Aysel slashed at Donovan's midsection, the male barely dodging the fierce attack. They had long limbs, especially their legs, with ankles snapped backwards, and they almost seemed to be standing on tiptoes with their small paws. Their shoulders and chest bulked with muscle, and their hands had talon-like claws, long and vicious, slightly curved.

Donovan roared, baring long, strong canines in his short muzzle, too thick to be necessarily sharp, but they could easily tear through flesh with little effort involved. He lunged at Aysel, tackling her into the wall before she could avoid him.

But the female, though smaller, was not about to be defeated so easily, and she bit into the male's shoulder, causing him to let out a roar of pain. She removed her own jaws from him, licking the blood from them and letting out a low growl before she swiped his chest.

The male backed away several steps, snarling ferociously and he feinted an attack at her shoulders, then slashed her left side, causing her to let out a low howl. He seemed to almost grin at her before he cut her shoulder and knocked her to the ground, standing over her and letting out a victorious howl.

Aysel was not about to submit to him just yet, and she swiftly rolled over onto her stomach and lifted herself from the submissive position at his feet, pouncing and biting deep into his other shoulder. She did not let up as he growled and roared, not relenting until he yelped at last, and then she let go, much to the relief of the male.

Backing away from him, she starting to shrink, her skin changing from dark gray to a gentle tan, her fur disappearing, the mane on her head growing longer and brown and spreading over a face that was becoming human and beautiful. Finally, Aysel stood there in all her glory. Victorious, bathed in sweat and blood, she bore a few cuts and gashes, but her slim, toned body was recovered quickly.

Donovan began the transformation back into human form as well, his skin growing lighter and tanner, but the fur stayed the same color as it became human hair once more. The blackness of the eyes shrank into pupils, revealing blue-gray irises. He was muscular and tall, not overly bulky, but his military training was more than evident. He had a cleft in his chin and full lips, and his features were similar to those of the werewolf Richard.

Partly because they were cousins.

The male stood there with many more wounds than his mate, his two shoulders covered in blood, and he was sweating and panting as he pushed himself off the wall he had been leaning on.

Aysel had always been the more dominant one of the pair, and Donovan never really seemed to mind, just pretend to. While when they had been human he had always been stronger and faster and just a better fighter, he had always submitted himself to her.

The Hungarian woman had met Donovan one summer when his family decided to have their family reunion somewhere foreign and had settled upon the beautiful city of Budapest. Aysel had met the whole family, Richard included, then, and Donovan had courted her after meeting her in the café she worked at, and she had fallen for the American's eager charm after a few weeks.

They had corresponded as much as possible with letters, phone calls, e-mails, after he left Budapest, keeping in touch as much as possible. He had even sent her money to come to America to be with his family when he returned home from military training, promising he would ask her to marry him that day.

Aysel had come, but so had a small clan of vampires, and they took an interest in her. Unfortunately for Aysel and Donovan's family, the plane landed at night, and the vampires had been able to follow Aysel and to Donovan's home, attacking the family.

Only Aysel, Richard, and later Donovan knew what happened that night, but it had changed Aysel, more so than Richard and Donovan, and when the werewolves of that city had come, catching the scent of vampire in the air during a hunt, finding the two survivors of the massacre, they had offered them new life as lycanthropes.

Eagerly, Aysel had taken it up, and convinced Richard easily into it as well. Once Donovan had arrived home, Aysel had turned him, marking him as hers and hers alone. And she was his and his alone. But they still liked to beat each other up half the time.

All three of them had shown great skill and potential, ending them up here, at the main headquarters in Prague. And on Vladimir's team.

"I hope you two didn't wear yourselves out when you are supposed to be getting ready to go on a hunt," Vladimir said, officially announcing his presence and walking over onto the fighting mat. His arms were folded, and his face was blank, but he held a spark in his eyes that said he was pleased with the fighting skills he had seen, and displeased with the waste of time and energy.

In human form, Vladimir wasn't as imposing and intimidating as Ulric, but he was close, though for different reasons. He let his hair - shoulder length, wavy, and chestnut, matching the color of his fur - stay down, hardly ever combing it so it appeared almost wild at times, like he had run through the forest and not bothered to straighten it out. He was the same height as Ulric, somewhat broad and muscular, with a stern face, scruffy beard, semi-long sideburns, and a scowl that could send shivers down the spines of vampires and younger werewolves.

Though Aysel and Donovan had lost that fear of him long ago. They still respected and feared him for his strength and skill and position, but they never showed the fear, nor did they let it overtake them or cloud their judgment, never cowering when they should be backing.

Vladimir's eyes were dark, a mixture of hazel and green, and their stare was often broken by the young pups that would fail the training to be on his team. They were more often emotionless then anything else, though now they were unusually exposing.

Perhaps the thrill of the hunt, or the reprimand from Ulric had caused him to lose his control over what was shown in his eyes.

"Where is Valora?" he asked softly, but was answered by Valora herself as she entered, already dressed and prepared for the afternoon's mission. He noticed the longing and appreciative stare in her eyes, but ignored it, as always.

Valora had set her sights on Vladimir many years ago, when the remains of her pack had moved from America to the shelter of the headquarters. She admired Vladimir's leadership qualities with the team, yet his humble and submissiveness with Ulric and Melantha, his loyalty never faltering for his own ambitions. But she was now at odds with Meira, who had tried to tell Valora many times she had no desire in the beta male.

Jealousy does not make the best listener though, and it was well known now that there was rivalry between the two females.

It was not that Vladimir found Valora unattractive or worthy. From a viewing standpoint, Valora was pleasing to the eye, especially for the wolf inside him.

With blondish-brown hair that was kept short, dark eyes that told almost every emotion unless she was out with the team on duty, no-nonsense attitude, dedication, toned body and warm smile that could quickly turn into a vicious snarl, she was a warrior, obviously not restricting her wolf beyond keeping it beneath her skin most of the time. She was very much like Vladimir, and sometimes he regretted his attentions being wasted on Meira.

But the daughter of the only female to ever be alpha was showing the potential to be just as great as her mother. Fierce, loyal, obedient but with a questioning curiosity and an almost inability to take everything at face value, she was enticing, tempting. She was beautiful, and though not fond of violence, she was hardly afraid to attack ruthlessly when she had to, for her sake of herself or for someone she loved.

Those qualities had drawn Vladimir to her, the fight she put up against him had sealed his want for her. He was resolved to make her his mate.

And to find some way to humiliate Nomak if he could not kill him. The carrier Reaper was an arrogant prick, acting as though he was still a vampire prince and not an outcast, a mutation, a mistake, nothing more than a creature to be sought out and destroyed.

Vladimir forced himself to get over his wounded pride and return his focus to the top three members of his team. "Aysel, Donovan, go dress and prepare yourselves. Valora, make sure the others know their duties and shifts up until dawn, we don't know how long this will take," he instructed the three. "I will go and make sure Richard has all the security systems functioning, just in case something should happen."

The teammates nodded and split, Valora heading out to make sure the others knew what to do, Aysel and Donovan heading out to wash and dress, Vladimir striding out and down the hall to find Richard.

The beta really didn't think they would find anything, or that anything would happen, unless it was internal, and then it would be a disaster named Nomak going crazy only to be put down by Ulric. If Vladimir was lucky, anyway.

* * *

Karen walked into another lab room, almost smirking at the sight before her as she folded her arms. She leaned against the wall, deciding to watch for a moment.

Whistler was awake all right, and trying to shove the two werewolves away from his, cursing fouler than she had heard from him. He showed no sign of worry about fighting younger, stronger looking males, especially when he didn't even know if they were human or not, but, that was Whistler for you.

"Get your damn hands off me, you sons of bitches!" he shouted, trying to get off the hospital like bed. "I want to know where the fu-" he started, but Karen decided now she should cut in.

"Whistler, it's ok," she said, loudly but calmly. "They just want to take your vitals, make sure you're alright, weren't hurt or bitten by one of the reapers," she informed him as she walked over, smiling at the recognition and surprise in the old man's eyes.

He calmed down considerably, now more interested in her than fending off the two males. "Karen? Well, if I'll be damned. I've been wonderin' where you were. Never thought I'd find you in a place like this, whatever it is," he stated, casting baleful glares at the two males.

Karen laughed softly and came over to where he sat on the bed. "This place isn't as bad as you think. I'm with an, organization, that despises vampires and is now going to make sure their reaper problem is taken care of, as well as wipe the vampires out," she told Whistler. "And they can do it too. They're more powerful, and they are the ones truly pulling the strings."

Whistler's eyes narrowed in confusion and suspicion. "What do you mean?"

"They are werewolves, Whistler. And they have Nomak."

* * *

The first thing that popped into Blade's head was the first thing that came out of Scud's mouth.

"You gotta be shitting me."

Yeah, that about summed it up.

Blade stared Damaskinos, not even blinking. The half vampire had never, ever had his world turned upside down, not even when Frost had come and Whistler became a vampire plaything. That had changed things, made him feel an ache he had hoped only humans would ever feel. But it was nothing like this.

This, this threw everything out the window and started from scratch, and he was having to depend on Damaskinos for the beginnings of it. If this wasn't some bullshit trick.

"So, you're telling me, that there really are werewolves, and that they are above vampires?" he asked, not quite believing and really hoping he didn't need to. "How? They can't control the change, if they're even real, and I've never heard anything about them, nothing. How is that possible?"

Damaskinos smirked, looking smug even while he seemed to be in a bind. "Because they can control their change and because their leader, their top alpha, is very old, he is, older than even I am," the elder vampire admitted with loathing in his voice, looking down slightly. It obviously was a blow to his pride to reveal such a fact.

"He's older than you, therefore more careful, less sloppy, than you is that it?" Blade asked, taking advantage of Damaskinos' discomfort. "And let me guess. They are careful enough with their meals that if it's discovered, it looks like an animal attack, or even a victim of a vampire, perhaps?"

"You are a fast learner, Daywalker. But we'll have to wait and see if you are fast enough," Damaskinos remarked. "You must now hunt a far more powerful prey, prey that will likely turn into your predator. They know too much. They want to wipe my kind out, and now they will go after Nomak, if they do not already have him, which is likely. They will use him against us, and ultimately, your beloved humanity will suffer for it."

"How the hell do I know this is true?" Blade demanded, still not fully buying it.

Damaskinos grinned, sickening, an old man's leer. "Because we will throw you out onto the streets where you will see the truth with your own eyes. For they no longer will stay in shadow and reign calmly and discreetly."

Blade sighed, shaking his head. He really wasn't buying all this, but perhaps some of it was true. He glanced at Scud, then cursed silently as he realized he had forgotten one of the few things that mattered besides the destruction of vampires.

Whistler.

"They took him, we believe," Damaskinos said with a knowing smile. "Whether or not he is alive, that we do not know. If he is fortunate, he is dead. It is not good to be kept alive by lycanthropes. They are not merciful captors," he told Blade. "Perhaps that knowledge will help sway your mind."

Fangs were bared in Blade's snarl as he replied to the decaying elder. "How do I know you aren't just saying that to sway me?"

"I think it should be, how do you know I am?"

* * *

Nomak was enjoying the walk down the hallways of the werewolves' headquarters, and thankful for the silence during it. He did not hold a grudge because of the punch to his gut earlier, honestly. Well, perhaps a little. But he preferred the silence even without that. He did not like talking and noise, nor did he like having to talk.

It hurt to talk, and he had done so much with Ulric already.

Finally Meira stopped at a door, beautiful wood, a deep red tint to it, and turned to face him, pride and fire in her light eyes. "Here, your guest chambers," she said curtly, obviously eager for their parting.

"Thanks," he said briefly and opened the door, walking in. He turned around, noticing she hadn't left, and cocked his head to the side.

"Are they to your liking? Ulric will want to know if you find anything to your displeasure, or need anything," she explained to him, and he was almost surprised she didn't shift her weight to one leg, placing her hands on her hips, and yawn with boredom and exasperation.

"They're fine," he replied.

Meira arched an eyebrow. "You haven't looked at them yet."

"I want to lie down and talking hurts," he told her, eyes narrowing. "So you can tell him they are fine, and let me rest."

Meira nodded, looking slightly apologetic. "I didn't know that it hurt to talk, I'm sorry. I'll let you get some rest, and make sure nobody else bothers you, except to bring you blood or if Ulric wishes to speak with you," she told him.

Nomak nodded. "Thanks," he muttered out again and closed the door, walking farther into the room and looking around.

The room was not ornately decorated, but it was furnished well and comfortably. It was mostly blues and some black and some white, with a bed, a desk, a door to a bathroom, a door to a closet he would never use, and a few other furnishings.

Sighing and peeling off his clothes so that he could lose some of the unbearable heat, Nomak neared the bed. He shed his clothing, the garments scattered all over the floor as he reached the bed and laid down on it. He almost sighed again, this time from bliss at the feel a soft mattress and cool, cotton covers beneath his feverish skin.

He did not know what purpose Ulric wanted him to serve, not completely or exactly, but he owed the werewolves for the bed and the cooled blood. But it proved his thoughts that they wanted something of him, they had some deed for him to do. Nobody showed a monster kindness unless they did not want to get dirty themselves.


	4. Trust Is Hard To Come By

Author's note: A character from Blade Trinity makes an appearance in this chapter, and we finally get a few more vampires in it. But werewolves still dominant the story. Anyway, thanks for the reviews, and please keep them coming. Warning: Sexual situations in this chapter.

Disclaimer: I don't own, don't sue.

--------------------------------------

CHAPTER THREE: TRUST IS HARD TO COME BY

Meira walked into her chambers at the headquarters, finding her mother sitting in one of the lounge chairs, reading a book. An annoyed sigh came out of Meira, for surprise talks with her mother usually were not good for her, well, they would not be if she was human and human blood pressure problems.

"You know, there are ways to stop someone without punching them, especially when they perhaps feel cornered," Silvia said softly, setting down the book and looking up at her daughter. "Meira, I know you despise Vladimir, I understand, but if you do not learn to contain your violent tendencies, I will make you join his team so you can at least put them to good use."

Meira's eyes narrowed as her pupils began to dilate, and she growled low in her throat. "I will never join his team, and I can control myself just fine. I simply react the wrong way, I didn't know how close he was to biting Karen, and I did what was necessary to keep him from doing so," she stated. "Not that I need to explain my actions to you anymore. Ulric has taken me in as Karen's lab partner and I am no longer part of your pack."

Almost instantly Meira regretted those words, and she could not fight of the guilt that tore at her stomach and threatened to shove her stomach up her throat when she saw her mother's eyes close in a flinch as if she had been slapped.

"Mom, I'm-"

Silvia held up a hand, cutting her off. The female alpha bowed her head briefly, then rose, nodding. "You're right, Meira. I cannot make you do a thing anymore as far as pack laws go. But I am still your mother," she told her daughter softly, pale blue eyes shining as if they were ice, melting under the sun's scorching light. "I am trying to help teach you, help you learn so that you do not make an even bigger mistake in judgment one day."

Meira looked down, biting her lip as she listening to her mother. She knew Silvia cared and still sometimes felt as though Meira was nothing more than a pup. And perhaps her mother was right, perhaps she did need to learn to control herself.

"One day, Meira, you will be sent out of the safety of the pack, for what reason, that is in Ulric's mind alone at the moment. But you will have to deal with humans, far more frustrating and aggravating creatures, and what will happen if you react the wrong way in front of them?"

Silvia cupped Meira's face and lifted her head up. "I love you, Meira. And you have so much strength in you, so much intelligence as well. But you must learn how to use both, together. When you do, you will be as fierce as myself or any other alpha out there. You just need to put them together."

"Mom, I'm sorry."

The female alpha nodded, kissing Meira's forehead lightly. "I know. I know that since your father died it has been harder for you to control your aggression, I suffered it myself as well, and it almost cost me my position, remember?" she asked, and her daughter nodded. "Understand, I am only trying to save you from something similar, or even worse."

Meira nodded again, managing a small smile. "I know , Mom. I just, I would like to go one visit from you without you correcting every single thing I do wrong. Perhaps this time I deserved it, but Ulric already reprimanded me enough, publicly."

Silvia grinned, her smooth yet mature skin barely wrinkling despite her centuries. "Then just be thankful I did not do this publicly as well," she said with a teasing tone, causing Meira's smile to widen. "There, that's better. You look much prettier when you smile than when you frown," she told her daughter. "Now, how about you tell me about Nomak. And whether or not you lost control again," she added with a wink.

"I called him a snitch," Meira admitted, but before her mother could complain, she added, "and he called me a bitch afterwards, then we were silent, but he didn't seem offended. But he was acting cocky."

"Every male except Ulric acts cocky in your opinion," Silvia quipped.

"That's because every male except Ulric can't prove they have the right to act cocky," Meira replied.

Silvia smirked and nodded. "True, true. Though your father was quite powerful himself. But he was much different in his methods, intelligent and cunning, striking at others efficiently and swiftly, without having to even use his brute strength," she recalled, her eyes unusually wistful.

Meira reached out and squeezed her mother's hand briefly. She normally didn't show so much concern, but her mother normally didn't show that much emotion when it came to her father. Meira didn't remember him that well, though her mother still did. She just didn't mention him that often or even show much reaction to thoughts of him, and it was hard for Meira to see. She wasn't used to it, and she didn't know how to handle it exactly.

"Listen to me, talking as if I was an old woman in a rocking chair," her mother said as she felt Meira's affectionate squeeze. She smiled at her daughter, eyes glassy and shining like diamonds with the faintest blue tint. "I need to go, make sure the pack is well and without my help still. I'll see you later, alright?"

"Ok," Meira replied, nodding and offering her mother a genuine smile. "I'm going to go make sure some blood is delivered to the reaper within the hour. According to what Karen and I know of his species, he needs to feed several times a day."

Her mother nodded and leaned over to kiss her daughter's forehead before walking to the door and letting herself out. As the door closed softly, Meira let out a soft sigh and looked around. She decided to change, her clothes smelled of Vladimir and Nomak. Two males she did not want to carry the scent of.

----

If there was one vampire in the world Nyssa Damaskinos despised truly and thoroughly, it was Danica Talos.

The turned vampire had been worming her way up higher than any halfbreed should. She was ambitious and resentful of purebloods. She also seemed to reciprocate the contempt Nyssa harbored, her own eyes filled with icy hatred and resentment whenever they landed on Nyssa. Well, they seemed to hold more when they glanced at her. She always stared at purebloods and humans with contempt.

Not that she really had much right to stare at humans with contempt. She had once been one, and while she was now of the stronger race of vampires, she was still a weakling compared to Nyssa and other purebloods.

Danica reminded Nyssa of Deacon Frost, or what she had heard of him. She had fortunately never met that bastard.

The two females stood side by side, waiting for Nyssa's father to come. Nyssa felt her loathing rise at the fact that she was having to act as hostess to Danica as if she were an equal, and her humiliation was even worse as she had been effected by the damaging light of the UV bomb, the burn on her throat not fully healed.

The tension in the air was thick and practically tangible. They both stood tense and at attention, but Nyssa knew Danica had no chance in combat. The halfbreed bitch could fire a gun and kick some poor male's balls, but she was no match for someone trained and skilled in the art of fighting. Nyssa had taken on Blade, and would have had the upper hand if Asad hadn't put a stop to the fight.

A slight wave of grief passed through Nyssa's mind at the thought of her fallen friend and comrade, but now was not the time. Besides, she didn't want to give Danica a reason to bare her fangs in a twisted smile.

"So, you really worked with the Daywalker?" Danica finally asked after a moment, her almost constantly lewd voice cutting through the haze of mutual contempt.

"Yes."

"How was he?"

"I didn't screw him, if that's what you mean."

"No, you fight people. But with you, is there really a difference?"

A growl emitted from Nyssa and she nearly lashed out at Danica, but kept herself in control. It was difficult, to say the least, especially as Danica's suggestive laughter met Nyssa's ears. Ever since Danica had wormed her way high enough to enter the home of Overlord Eli Damaskinos, she had made it her mission to taunt Nyssa with lewd jokes and suggestive comments.

Sometimes Nyssa wondered if Danica wanted to have at her. Since Danica looked at sex as a weapon and a means of torture more so than actual pleasure. Well, it was for her, but more because of the damage she liked to make it cause.

Whereas Nyssa preferred a clean fight, honorable and vicious to the death. This amused Danica for some reason, Nyssa didn't want to understand the halfbreed's sick mind, and did not want to know what plans she entertained as far as the vampire princess was concerned. The only thing she wanted to know about Danica, was how she could be kept under control.

Finally, Damaskinos entered, and Nyssa could have jumped with joy at the sight of her father practically. Instead she calmly walked over to him, taking his hand as he glanced at Danica with his own icy contempt, though his eyes and their age were colder than Danica could ever dream of being.

"Father, Danica Talos, here to request permission to look into your archives," Nyssa announced, trying to keep her voice calm and emotionless. The very thought of Danica touching the sacred books in her father's library nearly made her tremble with rage, but she knew it was not her place to say or show displeasure, not until she and her father were alone.

Sometimes, being the daughter of the vampire overlord had its very depressing downsides.

Damaskinos narrowed his eyes at Danica, studying her, piercing her as if looking into her thoughts to see what it was she wanted. After a moment, he waved his hand briefly, letting out a heavy sigh. "You may do as requested," he told the halfbreed, who seemed to glow with a wicked light at the decision. "For two hours, and no more," he instructed, putting a damper on Danica's happiness. "Make sure you ruin nothing, take nothing, and leave everything in its proper place."

With a reluctant nod, her colder now, Danica agreed. "Very well, Overlord," she said with restraint. She walked to a door at one side of the room, where the archives were kept, and entered, quietly shutting the door without a single glance back.

Damaskinos glanced over to Nyssa, and she could tell her father had not been fond of his own decision. "We must keep her occupied until what remains of the Bloodpack and Blade leave," he explained, sensing her confusion. "There is too much hanging in the balance for her to be snooping around. So to keep a dog out of the master's meal, we give it the treat it really wants."

Nyssa nodded, though she still wished Danica could have just been exiled from Prague for the rest of her immortal life. Which hopefully would be cut off somehow.

"See to it the others are ready within the hour. And, Nyssa," Damaskinos said, his tone a warning. "Do not go to Blade. You may see him again when it is time for you to leave," he instructed, his eyes cold now, even as they were staring into her own.

A shiver ran down Nyssa's spine, and she felt afraid of her father in a way she had never thought possible. But then it left her as he softened, letting go of her hand after giving it a gentle pat. She nodded in obedience and walked out of the room at the other end, passing by Faris as she left.

Damaskinos's eyes followed his daughter as she left, then moved to brooding figure of Faris.

The vampire, not a pureblood but an ex-familiar, was not too tall, but stocky, with hollow cheeks, pitch black hair that almost reached his shoulders, and eyes of an even darker black. He was of Irish descent, and still looked imposing despite his height. He was also well trusted, having proved himself as a familiar, and as well trained as any member of the Bloodpack.

"Stay at the door to the library," the vampire overlord told his lackey as he walked out of the room as well. "Do not allow Miss Talos to leave until two hours have passed, and escort her all the way out. We cannot afford more complications," he stated.

Faris nodded once, curtly, then strode over to the library door and stood at attention. The vampire overlord knew Faris wouldn't waver in his orders. He could always trust Faris around Danica - after all, the halfbreeds hated each other after Faris had slept with Danica for information two years ago, and Faris had despised the experience.

Danica as well. There was nothing she hated more than when others turned the tables on her.

----

The warm water felt wonderful on Aysel's skin, soothing and calming, relaxing tense muscles and cleansing her already healing wounds. Her brown and blonde hair was darkened almost to black as she stood beneath the pouring water, letting it soak her thoroughly. Blood and sweat mingled with water and dripped down her body, falling to the floor and rushing to the drain as she clean up.

Her eyes were closed, but Aysel could smell Donovan, hear him stepping into the shower stall with her, feel his eyes on her as her body faced him. Then she felt hands on her sides, gentle and slightly tugging, wanting her near him. The action was more pleading than pulling, and she opened her eyes as she stepped closer, looking at Donovan as her clean form pressed against his unwashed form, his blood and sweat covered her torso and chest, mixing with water and dripping down both of them.

"You're beautiful when you've won," he whispered softly, one hand slipping form her hip to her stomach, lying flat against her and between their bodies, sliding up, between her breasts, to her neck, thumb tenderly stroking her cheek.

The action made Aysel quiver, her eyes fluttering and causing tiny droplets to fall from her lashes. She reached up, her own palms and fingers flat against his skin, moving up his back to his shoulders, and then nails lightly grazed his skin as her hands moved down, reaching his buttocks before moving back up.

A growl escaped Donovan, his own eyes closing and she felt the wolf trembled beneath his skin. Her lips captured his, taking advantage of the sound that forced his lips open. Another growl met their ears, this time Aysel's as she felt Donovan knead her ass while they kissed, tongues brushing and dancing as if in a duel.

The warm water may have felt wonderful on Aysel's skin, but it could not compare to the exquisite feel of Donovan's flesh and touch and tongue, the smell of arousal filling the steamy air, bodies trembling as wolves clamored inside. Human and wolf instinct melded as Aysel pulled Donovan into the water and helped him clean, her tongue tasting the blood and sweat and his fingers clawing at her back.

Growls and whines and moans and gasps met their ears as arousal became stronger and thicker in the air. They battled again for dominance, just as primal as before, but tempting and taunting and loving and caring. Soon dominance no longer mattered, the wolves giving in to the human instinct to be equal and be joined.

Donovan lifted her up, Aysel's legs wrapping around his hips as her fingers clutched at his hair. He kissed her, tongue entering her mouth as he entered her body, two growls mingled in their mouths at the sensation, and then it was all thrusting and tendering nips and gentle clinging, tight yet sweet and desperate even while restrained.

It was often like this between them. There never was dominance in their lives when they mated. It was blissful and equal, it was faith and trust, comforting, arousing, soothing, exciting, human, wolf, and then it was nothing but bursting rapture that made them see nothing as they came apart and put each other back together.

The two of them moved in perfect unison, their movements still in sync despite the frantic, desperate panting and clinging, the maddening need to push each other over the edge even though they wished this could last for eternity.

And then it happened, the build up finally peaking and nothing in the world mattered to them, nothing else existed. It was fierce, so much pleasure it almost hurt and they could barely stand it, but they clung to it as they clutched at each other tight enough to break human bones.

Several moments passed. The only sounds they could hear was the water and their panting. More time swept by, and reluctantly they moved, parting and finishing their shower before turning the water off and stepping out. Their hands found each other and fingers interlocked, squeezing briefly. And then they were dressing, preparing for their mission.

When they returned, they could take their time. Donovan was always gentle with her, as if she would break. Aysel was just as gentle with him. When they finished, they would be able to relax in their embrace, covered in the afterglow and nothing more.

"Your wounds have healed," Donovan said softly, glancing at her with his all American smile, the same one that had won her over so long ago. It was soft and charming, genuine and sweet and boyish even in the face of a matured and hardened man.

"Yours have too," Aysel replied, smiling back. She leaned over, kissing him deeply and slowly, taking her time with it. She felt strong hands cup her face after a moment, her mate returning the kiss, taking his own time with it.

It was several moments later when they finally parted and finished preparing for their next assignment. When they returned they would take their time though. Time was something they had learned to appreciate a lot more.

----

Vladimir strode down a hallway and made a turn, silently entering the main surveillance room where Richard was stationed at, the younger werewolf seated in front of the many screens, though his eyes were focused on a book he was holding.

At least it's not some porno magazine.

The other lycanthrope looked up from his reading and acknowledged Vladimir with a slight bow of his head. "Everything's clear at the moment. Everyone's at their posts," he informed the top beta. "We have three cameras set up and operating at the hallway here the reaper's room is located, just as you requested."

"Good, very good," Vladimir replied. He had wanted to make certain there was no way the reaper could sneak past security cameras, hiding in angles their vision couldn't quite reach. This way, there was always a camera focused on his hallway.

You won't be able to sneak around this place, not with me in charge of security, Suckface. Just because our alpha wants your help doesn't mean you can get away with murder.

Vladimir's dislike of the reaper - he would not acknowledge anything more than dislike until he knew he was allowed to hate Nomak - was growing by the second. The mutated vampire had caused the beta to be humiliated in front of his alpha and his underlings. Vladimir despised being put down in front of others. He had worked hard to be where he was, and he would be damned if he let some freak of vampiric nature ruin it just because he wanted to be a brat.

"Is there anything else you need me to do, sir?" Richard asked, cutting off Vladimir's train of thought. He looked up at the beta, his expression making it obvious he was oblivious to his boss' musings.

Vladimir shook his head, his mane of dark hair flittering around his face at the movement. "No, good job. Once Ulric and Melantha are up, alert them I've taken the team out on the mission," he instructed before leaving, not even waiting for the nod he knew would come. He trusted Richard to take care of things, the young lycanthrope was loyal and well trained.

Vladimir did hope that there would be a few reapers left down in the tunnels. He so badly wanted to rip them apart. All the while he could pretend they were Jared Nomak.

It was a shame Vladimir hadn't stayed a few moments longer in the security room. He would have been able to see something the three cameras picked up that would have made the beta's day even better.

----

Danica Talos despised humans. She had that in common with Deacon Frost. In fact, she had a lot in common with Frost. She was one of those who had been disappointed to hear his plan had failed. Of course, she had to be careful who she allowed to know about that, as the purebloods hated Frost and those like him.

They didn't like halfbreeds, even though they created them and allowed them to be created. But once any of them showed extreme loyalty to their species and wanted to further its being, they were looked upon as traitors.

It disgusted her. She could not understand why Frost's plan had been such a thing to fear. She knew that Damaskinos hadn't given a shit about the council and its pureblooded members, only the fact that a halfbreed had killed them. Perhaps it was because that halfbreed did something the overlord had wanted to do but had never attempted.

Danica, like Deacon, had once been human and upon her turning, had longed to rise in the ranks of the vampires. Also like Deacon, she despised the race she had once been part of with a vengeance. They were cattle to be killed or turned or used as pets. They were weak.

Danica, like Deacon, lost sight of the fact that it was pure luck and only luck they had been turned and allowed to live.

The rather young vampiress gingerly looked through the pages of one of the oldest books in Damaskinos' library. The room was thick with dust, the air was musky and old, and she was dying for a cigarette. But she couldn't risk a fire, even though the nicotine would be such a sweet relief to the ancient air that was filled her nose, throat, and lungs.

An impatient sigh escaped her, but she forced herself to concentrate. If she found what she came here for, and she had faith that she would, this, all of it, would be worth it. And then she could prove to be even more of a bother and even more concerned for her race than Deacon Frost.

If she found what she was looking for, she would bring back a power far greater than La Magra. The one she sought was more powerful than their blood god, older and stronger and wiser. She would bring back a force not even Blade could destroy.

Her race would be saved.

Fingers gently and carefully turning another page, Danica smiled, a wicked and frightening leer with glistening fangs, as she finally found what she had been searching for.

----

Nomak opened his eyes slowly, letting them adjust to the darkness of the bedroom. He had turned out all the lights, giving his eyes a chance to rest, and had actually been able to fall asleep. Probably because the sheets beneath him were an exquisite cotton that breathed but felt softer than anything he had known before. It felt nice against his skin, and he'd been able to keep from burning up.

The reaper slowly sat up, his ears picking up the sound of soft footsteps out in the hall. He listened to them carefully as they neared, recognizing their sound and pattern as Meira's.

She had a distinctive footstep. She strode briskly yet almost silently, and Nomak wondered if she would make more noise than that even if she wore heels and soles made of metal. It was a nice footstep though, it didn't make him wince at the harshness nor did it make him wonder if she'd ever show up.

His sister had that sort of footstep. She took forever and was slower than some slugs he'd seen.

Nomak slid off the bed and grabbed his pants, quickly slipping them on. He figured there was a chance Meira was coming to bring him blood, and he didn't think she'd appreciate it if he answered the door naked. Though the look on her face would be interesting, to say the least.

Pausing, his pants halfway up his thighs and his body in an awkward position, the reaper repeated his last thought. Why on earth would he care about any look on her face? Ok, so maybe he did get enjoyment out of taunting her, maybe it was because she had punched him when he was hungry - though he was always hungry - and cornered, but still.

Shaking his head, he finished putting the pants on and sighed. He obviously needed to get over the fact that he was actually able to interact with a female.

Meira's soft footsteps reached the door to his guest room, and Nomak walked over, opening it up mid knock. The female lycan held her hand up for a moment, then dropped it and rolled her eyes before noticing Nomak's state of undress. She quirked an eyebrow, but didn't say anything.

"Don't know why I even bothered," she muttered to herself before handing him another bag of blood - cold in his hand and soothing his skin. "Here you go. When would you like another one?" she asked, trying to put forth an effort to be a bit more amiable.

Nomak tore open the bag and lifted it to his mouth, keeping his eyes locked with hers as he quickly drained the plastic container of its contents. The blood was sweet, human and fresh and so cold he was amazed it wasn't frozen. It slid down his throat, coating and soothing every part of him it came in contact with, and the reaper could almost sigh in relief.

Handing the bag back to her once he finished, Nomak wiped his mouth clean and answered. "Now."

Meira's eyes narrowed, and it was obvious she was fighting not to say something snarky. But she calmly took the empty bag and nodded. "Fine. I'll be back in a minute," she said curtly. She turned to leave, but Nomak reached out, grabbing her shoulder.

"No, I'll go. I can't sleep any more anyway," he told her, stepping out of the room and closing the door. "As long as your species doesn't mind someone walking around shirtless," he added. He didn't want to put his shirt back on, his body was enjoying the cool air.

The female werewolf shook her head. "No. Some of us can be seen completely nude, after the change. It happens, you have to head back to your chambers to dress again. We have different standards of modesty, though we do have some," she explained.

"And the sight of a pale freak whose veins show through his skin won't bother anyone?" he asked, and he realized he sounded bitter.

Meira seemed to soften a bit, and Nomak instantly wanted to smack her or go back inside and slam the door on her face. Pity shimmered in her pale eyes.

"No, it won't. If you want more blood, I'll take you to get some more," she told him, turning and walking down the hallway. After a moment she paused, glancing over her shoulder to see why Nomak wasn't following.

The pity was still there. It was sweet and sympathetic and made Nomak feel inferior and weak in a different manner than the way he felt around his father. But it still reminded him of how he felt around his father. He didn't like being reminded of that.

But his body ended up beating his pride, and reluctantly, he slowly followed her down the hallway.

Satisfied that he wasn't just going to let her walk alone and have to bring the blood back, Meira turned and led him down the hallway. She didn't glance back at him for a while, nor did she make any attempt to start a conversation. She didn't even try to make a sarcastic comment, or a comment period. She kept silent and gave him distance.

It confused Nomak. She pitied him, but she didn't try to say encouraging things, nor did she act sardonic and superior. She didn't take advantage of his self loathing in any way, merely, let him be. He wasn't sure how to respond to that.

Unable to think of something to do other than follow Meira to where more chilled blood would be found, Nomak stuck his hands in the pockets of his pants and decided that if anyone looked at him in a way he didn't like, he'd simply show them the interior of his mouth. For now though, it appeared to just be the two of them.

Nomak was thankful for that. He didn't want anymore looks of pity and certainly didn't want looks of repulsion. But his skin needed the cool air, instead of heated fabric, and Meira had said it wouldn't be minded.

Of course, he had never really made that much of a conscious effort to make sure he didn't offend people, had he? Ever since his mutation, he had gone out of his way to offend, insult, and frighten his father, place in Damaskinos the contempt of his own seed and the fear of it as well. And with the knowledge that Blade was working with the Bloodpack, Nomak could revel in the fact that his plan had indeed worked.

His father feared him greatly.


	5. Rivalry Can Be A Fine Line

Author's note: Ok, there is a line in here that Whistler says that is not mine. It belongs to the person who wrote the abridged script of Blade over at the Editing Room site. But, I wanted some humor in here, and it fit, so I borrowed it. Just thought I would give a heads up though and cover my ass.

Disclaimer: I only own the werewolves and Faris. The rest belongs to New Line, David Goyer, Marvel, and whoever else. Please do not sue me. Savvy?

* * *

CHAPTER FOUR: RIVALRY CAN BE A THIN LINE BETWEEN LUST AND HATE

Melantha idly ran her fingers along Ulric's chest, lightly brushing the tips against his skin. Her forefinger traced a circle around one nipple, then brushed over it before trailing down to his stomach. She could feel him shudder beneath her, his chest rising a falling more rapidly as his breathing became labored, her ear pressed to his left breast so she could listen to the steady and speeding rhythm of his heartbeat.

"I arouse you so easily still?" she asked softly, though her tone gave away the fact that she was assured in the fact that she still held such power over him. She always had, somehow, and she knew she always would.

"Yes," Ulric answered, despite knowing she didn't need him to confirm it. "You can bring me to my knees with a single kiss," he whispered before kissing her forehead.

The alpha female moved, propping herself up on her arms, her palms placed on the mattress on either side of him. Her lips formed a small smile, contentment filling her eyes. "It amazes me how you can inspire such awe with others, with myself, yet when it comes to us, you give worship and submit to me," Melantha stated softly.

"I never wanted to make you submit to me, ever," Ulric replied, propping himself up as well, leaning back on his elbows as he kissed Melantha deeply. "I loved you because of your proud yet compassionate and noble nature, the ability to reign without ruling," he whispered into her ear as he nuzzled her. "You had strength and beauty and you were fiercely loyal to your people. I never wanted to make you submit, never wanted to break you."

Melantha sighed softly, her lips parted and her eyes closed, her face a mask of pleasure. She returned the nuzzle, relishing the simple contact that was now instinctive for her and the animal beneath her skin. "I did submit to you, Ulric," she replied, her voice as soft as his. "I submitted willingly, and have never been broken."

Ulric lifted a hand to Melantha's neck, gently caressing it as he kissed from her ear, across her jaw, to her mouth, kissing her fiercely. "Anyone who ever breaks you will die," he whispered. "Anyone. Even if it's me."

"Well, at least I'll never have to worry about the latter," Melantha replied before kissing him again. "It's not possible for you to even desire to break me, and you are wholly wolf," she added, kissing down his neck.

As if in response to her last statement, a guttural growl escaped Ulric, his head falling back to give her more access. "True, but if I ever should, I would order myself to be killed," he replied, voice husky, and Melantha could feel the wolf tremble beneath the skin she teased. Another growl came from Ulric as she grazed her teeth over his throat, canines sharpening and scraping against him, never cutting.

"Stop," Ulric whispered hoarsely, his hands moving to hold her neck, gently pulling her head up for another kiss, hungry and primal. "You drive me mad," he told her, and her eyes bled black.

"That, my wolf, is the point," she whispered back, shifted her body onto him fully so that she straddled him again. "And I will push you to insanity before we leave this bed again," she promised, a predatory grin spreading across her exotic features.

This was what she loved most. The thrill of the mating. The teasing and tormenting and then the exquisite release, the hunger and lust and tenderness that kept them from tearing each other to pieces with need. It was an everlasting fire that burned inside her, always burning, sometimes reduced to an ember, sometimes a blazing inferno that threatened to kill her even though she was immortal.

It was Ulric's gift to her, to himself, to the both of them, and it pleased her and the wolf Ulric had sired in her.

"Wicked tease," Ulric replied, but in his silvery eyes she could see the desire for her to fulfill her promise. He was handsome and disheveled, a beast and a man in one, and Melantha herself didn't know where one ended and the other began. But then, the line blurred in her own mind between herself and her wolf. It was the nature of the lycanthrope, and he was as close to pure wolf as one of their kind could be.

Melantha moved up, kissing along his bearded jaw until she reached his mouth, her tongue slowly pushing past his lips as she began to kiss him, languidly and deeply. She raked her nails over his chest, making him shudder again.

His hands slid down her back, palms pressed flat against her skin, the fingers kneading her flesh when they reached her buttocks, and she purred into him as she kissed him fiercely. A growl emitted from her mate in reply, and she grinned against him.

It did so please her when he growled like the animal he truly was.

* * *

Meira could sense Nomak's uneasiness, and she had kept her mouth shut while they walked down the hallways. She didn't want to make him any more tense or insulted, as she had already suffered enough humiliation because of her actions toward the reaper.

Besides, she wasn't that mean spirited.

He seemed genuinely bothered by her comments and attitude right now, perhaps merely because he had been expecting the biting, snarky female he'd talked with earlier. Or perhaps it was because he was unused to this sort of attitude from anyone, much less a female who barely knew him and barely tolerated him the other time they'd been in a hallway together.

Whatever the reason, Meira had kept silent and given Nomak some space.

Although, she was a little thrown off by the fact that he had answered the door without a shirt and hadn't bothered to put one on before their excursion. She had meant what she said, her kind wouldn't be bothered, but she hadn't expected it from him.

She hadn't expected him to be so, toned, either.

Whoa, down girl. You did not just think that. Ok, maybe you did, but not in that way. Definitely not in that way. Ok, maybe slightly. But it's instinct - you're female and you're lycan, you're entitled to admiring someone of the opposite sex who's tall and toned and isn't afraid of getting dirty or bloody. Right?

Meira gave a soft sigh and shook her head slightly as they neared the kitchen in the lab section of the lycanthrope headquarters. Also known as the home of Ziodex Industries, the business that Ulric had built up to rival the vampires' own industry.

Nomak must have noticed her exasperation, probably thinking it was directed at him. "What, not fond of your company, Princess?" he asked, and Meira turned to face him sharply at the nickname more than the comment.

"What did you just call me?" she asked, trying not to sound angry or annoyed. She ended up sounding like she was trying not to sound angry or annoyed.

"Princess," Nomak calmly replied, a smug smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "You act like one, might as well address you properly," he added, his raspy voice making the insult sound even more biting to her ears.

Meira growled, eyes flooding black, but she closed them and turned away, inhaling deeply. "Look, if you think I was annoyed with you, I wasn't. I am now, but when I sighed I wasn't. I was just trying to clear my thoughts, because I was growing annoyed with myself," she told him through clenched teeth.

Opening her eyes, confident she had control over their coloring once more, she glanced over at Nomak, who looked like he didn't know what to do. She could tell he felt that he was supposed to say "Sorry," but wasn't sure how to go about it. The sight made Meira feel a slight twinge of guilt and even sympathy.

Obviously, this guy didn't get out enough, or at least didn't have enough interaction.

"Look, I'm sorry I don't always have the best attitude around you, or even seem to tolerate your company half the time," she said, softening a bit. "But I honestly wasn't annoyed with you or anything. This time, it was myself being the problem," she said, trying to relieve herself of the guilt more than put him at ease. She tried telling herself she didn't care enough about him to feel bad about being selfish.

Not that she even cared at all, really.

Nomak smirked and leaned over so that his eyes were level with hers and not that far away, either. Close enough for Meira to grow drunk on the scent of blood on his breath. "Don't worry, Princess, you'll get used to that. I already have," he told her, and Meira could have sworn his eyes were glowing with amusement.

"You're insufferable, and that's the best insult I can give without getting in trouble," Meira bit out before turning and striding briskly down the hall to the kitchen door. She was seething and wanted to tear Nomak apart with her claws, but she couldn't do that.

Besides, it was a joke. An annoying one at her expense, one made with dry humor that cared little if it offended, but still, it was Nomak's form of a joke.

Could she really fault him for not having a better sense of humor? After all, she knew he probably hadn't actually been hailed as the vampire prince he truly was, judging by the information on him Ulric had been able to get a hold of. And now, he was in constant pain.

Meira knew he was burning and tired, she knew he could never stop feeling the thirst, she and Karen had discovered all of that in their studies before Nomak had woken up. She knew that the reaper strain killed those infected, but Nomak, no matter how hungry he was, he wouldn't die from it. She was well aware that he like the rest of his kind, wasn't a mindless zombie like most of the other reapers were, and he wouldn't lose himself to the animalistic instinct that made the others gnaw on themselves when they were so desperate for food.

And she hadn't been a complete saint around him. So maybe she deserved some of his twisted humor. Still, she didn't have to like it.

The reaper that was taking control of most of her thoughts - much to her annoyance - finally walked into the kitchen, his hands still in his pockets. His pale skin looked even paler under the bright, white lighting of the room, and his veins were clearer as well.

She could probably trace one vein's complete pathway without even having to look hard. She could also mentally slap herself for being completely random and odd.

Nomak watched her with detached amusement as he walked past her to the fridge. He opened it, taking a bag of blood out of it, and ripped it open, downing the contents quickly. He then threw the bag away, still silent, before gesturing to her hand.

"You might want to throw the other bag out as well," he said, reminded her of the empty plastic bag he'd drained at his room.

Meira tossed the bag, trying not to glare at him or show her irritation. She kept repeating the words, "He's Ulric's guest and he's in pain," in her mind like a mantra, and so far it was helping. Of course, she knew there was a chance he would open his mouth again and make another annoying and insulting comment, and then she'd probably snap at him.

Literally.

"Can I have another?" he asked as he watched her, placing his hand on the fridge door, obviously not yet full.

Good thing they had plenty.

"Sure, you're the guest," she replied softly, tired all of a sudden. Her anger and annoyance had died down, leaving her drained and too tired to be exasperated. She leaned back against a counter, waiting for him to finish so she could escort him back to his room. Since she wasn't supposed to just leave him, that would be rude.

She had gotten into enough trouble over being, "rude."

Nomak nodded and opened the fridge again, pulling out another bag. He quickly repeated what he had done with the last bag, the sight of it starting to awakened Meira's own hunger. As he tossed the last bag, she ignored her stomach's whines for food. Once Nomak finished, she could take him back to his room and then get a meal of her own.

"Your stomach's talking," Nomak remarked, watching her with a curious expression. "Scent of blood making you hungry?" he asked as he moved nearer, arms folding over his chest.

Meira watched him almost warily, the wolf inside her telling her to find food and it guardedly. She wanted to move past the reaper, pulling out some meat, and devour it down in her wolfen form, but she couldn't, and that made her feel uncomfortable and cornered, the animal instinct telling her to attack.

"If you're done, I'll escort you back to your room and then be on my way," she said, ignoring his statements.

"What's the matter, Princess? Don't want me to see how primal you can be?" he asked her, his voice even lower than usual, coming out like a threat more than a taunt. He neared her, and for a moment Meira saw his mouth twitching as if it was about to split open. But then he brushed past her, walking out of the room and into the hallway.

Swallowing and forcing her nerves to calm down, as well as soothe the wolf that was struggling to tear out of the human skin that caged it. Though what the wolf wanted was a mystery to Meira at the moment. He felt something stir in her that confused her, making her uncomfortable and unsure of what she should do or think or say.

Well, it would be wise to go out there and escort him back to his room.

Rushing out of the lab kitchen, Meira found Nomak had already made it halfway to his room, the reaper striding faster than anyone else Meira had seen, other than Ulric and Melantha. She had to jog to catch up with him, which surprised her.

"If you're here to escort me, don't bother. I can find my way and I don't want company," the reaper told her gruffly, not even glancing at her as she neared him.

"Look, I have instructions and orders to follow, and I already got in trouble because of my attitude towards you," Meira started, but Nomak stopped abruptly, turning around as she practically ran into him. Fortunately for both of them, she was werewolf, and could manage to avoid a collision.

"Who's going to know? Is anyone even going to ask? If they do, tell them you obeyed my wishes, just leave out the fact that it was for you to leave me alone and let me head back to my room alone," he hissed, angry for some unknown reason. "That way, you can go, give in to the hunger I can hear your stomach grumbling about and see in your eyes, and still act high and mighty around me."

Meira opened her mouth to speak, but instead opted not to, and nodded, closing her mouth. "Alright. I'll leave you alone," she replied, not even daring to argue about his latest insult to her. She turned from him, walking down the hall. She ignored the wolf's growls and instinct to prove herself. As well as the pleased purrs threatening to escape at the sweet scent of blood stained breath.

* * *

Slamming the door hard enough to make it crack, Nomak walked over to his bed, quickly removing his pants and discarding them carelessly before sitting on top the soft sheets and firm mattress. He laid back after a moment, his body trembling with a rage uncalled for but unable to be kept in check. He had seen the lust for blood and raw flesh in Meira's eyes, he had heard her body's cry to feed.

But she had held back, refusing to give in while around him. She wouldn't let him see her devour her food like the animal he knew she was beneath that façade of mannerly female, above the lowly reaper and his crude habits.

It had infuriated him, seeing the same pious attitude he had seen in his father and those few that had ever been around him. They all thought they were above him, even before he was a reaper. And afterwards, well, being hunted like a wild animal by his own father's bloodhounds, that proved his father still thought himself above his bastard son.

And now, the werewolf bitch was doing it too. She pitied him, acted like she was above him, barely tolerate him, snapped at him, ignored him. She was just like the others, and it made Nomak burn even more.

He was overreacting most likely, letting his anger spiral out of control over just a mere female lycanthrope he liked having around only to insult and bicker with, when he felt up to it. Why let himself lose control and feel so, insulted, by her actions?

She wasn't worth it. Nobody was worth it.

Nomak sighed to himself, rolling over onto his stomach and closing his eyes. He needed more sleep.

* * *

Vladimir led his team through the tunnels, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the overwhelming scent of reaper ash and sewage. Dust and frail skeletons that somehow hadn't crumbled yet littered the ground. He took care of them with his boots, though, crushing those in his path. He suddenly heard a sound, and he raised his nose to the air, sniffing.

Reaper. Plain and simple. There was another, live reaper here. Somehow, it had survived.

Glancing back at the three lycans behind him, he made a motion for them to draw their guns and stay put. He waited for each to nod their understanding before pulling out his Ithaca 37 and heading down the tunnel. His boots were now careful of where they stepped, keeping his movements as quiet as possible. He kept his senses keen and alert, his body tense and ready to tear another one of those parasites apart.

The sound of skittering reached his ears, and he looked up to see one of the reapers swiftly crawling out of one tunnel, on the ceiling. He pumped his gun and aimed it, blasting the reaper in the head. He pumped it again even as the creature fell, striding over and turning it onto its back with his foot, blasting it where the heart was located.

The body burst into flames and dissolved, crumbled beneath Vladimir's boot as he stepped on it. The sound of its destruction pleased the beta lycan, and he walked back to the tunnel where the rest of the team waited, alert and ready for action.

"It's dead, but there's a chance there could be more," he instructed them. "Don't let your guard down and keep your senses alert."

The others nodded, but the sound of more reapers approaching filled their ears, nearing them from the tunnel the first one had come from. The skittering echoed through the subterranean lair, and the other three hurried over to their leader, drawing out their guns - most of them different styles of shotguns, which Vladimir had deemed the most effective from his experience.

Vladimir pumped his gun again, and aimed it at the leader of the group, ten in all it appeared, and waited for just the right moment. As the movements had hinted at, the reaper twisted and dropped to the ground, only to be blown back into the tunnel from the impact of the shot to his chest. The beta lycanthrope smirked momentarily, then got back to business.

It wasn't as satisfactory as killing Nomak would be, whenever he got to do it, but it would do for now.

The others were shooting at the oncoming assault, but five more appeared from another tunnel, and then three more at yet another tunnel. They were just wasting ammunition now, the guns would be better for another time.

"Everyone, disrobe and change," Vladimir ordered calmly, already removing his Kevlar and clothing, his body starting to twist and grow, contorting in what appeared to be a violent manner, but he had long ago lost the pain of the Change, the sweet release.

Soon he was the towering, menacing beast that he kept hidden beneath the surface only when he had to. His amber eyes fixed on the two reapers closest to him, down on the ground now and staring at him in confusion and hunger. He bared his fangs in a wolfish grin before lunging, tackling them to their backs before both paws shoved down with violent force, crushing their hearts with their own bone casing. He watched in vicious glee as they burned and dissolved into embers before dying out completely.

A roar of pain soon filled the room though, his ears recognizing it as his own as he became aware of a reaper that had jumped down onto him, punching his spine with incredibly force. Vladimir had taken worse, but it was still a painful wound.

Another roar, of rage, followed his and he felt the reaper pulled off him abruptly. Turning, Vladimir saw the form of Valora, almost identical to the form of Aysel and Donovan only a medium brown and more lupine facial features with black eyes, tearing the reaper apart without mercy.

One of the other reapers lunged at him as he took his attention of Valora, its mouth open wide. Vladimir caught the disgusting leech by the neck, his free paw breaking off the two sides of the jaw before yanking out the tongue, yellow, sticky blood splattering over his fur and the ground. He then ripped open its chest and tore out the bone encased heart, crushing it before the broken reaper's very eyes.

The corpse was dropped before it could burn Vladimir's paw.

At the other end, Aysel and Donovan were quickly dispatching of their own parasite problems, Aysel tearing into the chest of one reaper with her mammoth head . Her jaw yanked up roughly, the triumphant female holding a heart between her teeth, which was soon crushed to ash and spat out as her claws found another victim.

Donovan was tearing off the lower jaw of a reaper before it could open it up, an agonized shriek echoing off the walls before being silenced as it was slammed onto a sharp edge, the force crushing its entire chest. He sniffed in disgust before backhanding a lunging reaper into the wall and charging it with a roar, quickly dispensing of that nameless foe as well.

Valora was finishing off her third reaper, tearing the head clean off before dropping the corpse and crushing its chest beneath her paw like foot. She growled and went after her fourth, while Vladimir finished off his fifth.

He looked around, seeing that only three remaining, and Aysel and Donovan had teamed up to take out the third. He and Valora had the other two to themselves.

The female werewolf walked over after her fourth was killed, and they approached the last two as one, moving perfectly in unison, despite the vast differences in their forms. They had worked together many times, and knew what methods worked best on their enemies. She glanced at him, and he gave a slight nod, and they stood completely still.

Seeing an opening, the reapers jumped as one, but were grabbed in midair and slammed into the ground before their own hearts were ripped out to face the same fate all the others had faced - death. Their hearts crushed and useless, the reapers let out their last shrieks before they went up in flames.

All of the reapers dead, the werewolves regrouped and changed back into human form, swiftly dressing and gathering their weapons.

"Everyone, take a look around, make sure these were the only survivors," Vladimir ordered, receiving nods before the other three walked off in different directions, though he noticed the gleam in Valora's eyes that told him she had been pleased with their teamwork. He rolled his eyes.

She took it the wrong way every single time.

He head down a tunnel, sniffing the air, straining to see if he could pick up any noise of movement. He walked several feet down before taking a turn, and that was when he heard it- heavy footsteps. Silently, he pulled his Ithaca back out, one hand on the pump, one read to pull the trigged, and he ran in the direction. His ears picked up the sound of the footsteps speeding up as well, and he charged with his lycanthropic speed.

But the footsteps were fading, and soon they were gone, not even an echo left to give him a lead of where to go. He sniffed the air and looked around, but he couldn't find anything more to tell him where to go.

Vladimir growled loudly and turned, though he kept his weapon ready. He was not looking forward to telling Ulric one of them got away.

With a defeated scowl and yellow blood making his wild hair stick together in clumps, Vladimir returned to the meeting area, the others returning not long after him. He glanced at them expectantly, but they each shook their head.

"Nothing," Donovan reported, Aysel nodding in agreement. They stood near each other protectively, their heads slightly bowed as they awaited Vladimir's decision of what to do next.

Valora walked over, the last one back, and shook her head as well. "Nothing on my end," she informed Vladimir, who let out a heavy sighed, nodding. "Did you find anything?" she asked, receiving the same head shake she had given him.

"No, though I tried. One of them got away," he told the others. "I lost the trail, he had too big of a head start. We should get back, inform Ulric that there is one lose, possibly more. Everyone needs to keep an eye out though, we could run into more trouble on the way out."

Everyone nodded, and he led them back down the tunnel they had come from, returning to back to the alley their journey had originated at. All of them had killed, but it hadn't been good enough, and Ulric would not be pleased that there was a rabid reaper loose on the streets.

The alpha would know what to do though, and perhaps Nomak might come into some use, though Vladimir would find it almost impossible to believe. That leech who acted like he was still prince was troublesome, not useful or helpful. Of course, maybe Vladimir would be allowed to kill him now, with this new development.

A smirk formed on the beta's face, and he walked a little lighter as they headed back.

* * *

Whistler stared at Karen as if she had just revealed that she was in fact an alien from Mars as she explained to him the existence of werewolves. The old man had believed they were real, but, this real? That had definitely come as a shock to his system. And the fact that Karen was helping them was pretty shocking as well.

"So you're telling me these sons of bitches," he started, ignoring the glowers and low growls from the two male werewolves that were checking over his blood samples and whatever the hell they were doing, "are really in charge of things, and they're the reason the vampires haven't taken over the world?"

Karen nodded, and Whistler could tell she knew he was going to explode and ask millions of other questions.

Taking a deep breath, the old man tried processing this. "Damn it, I'm too old for the world to turn itself on its fucking head," he muttered darkly, and one of the male werewolves finally spoke up.

"Would you stop cussing so much it'd make a sailor blush, please?" he asked impatiently, having put up with the endless cursing and swearing from Whistler for over an hour now.

The old man hopped off the bed type thing he'd woken up on and walked over as fast as he could with his limp to the werewolf, about to cuss the younger male - in appearance, anyway - out so badly his ears would burn. But a firm grip on his shoulder stopped him, and he turned to see Karen shaking her head.

"Whistler, don't," she told him. "You need to sit down and rest, so please, just sit back down, ok?" she asked him gently, and Whistler knew she was just trying to keep his ass from being beaten.

Reluctantly, Whistler nodded and walked away after shooting the werewolf a death glare. He sat back on the bed, mentally grumbling. He looked back over to Karen, putting aside his wounded pride and annoyance as concern replaced those things in his mind.

"What about Blade? Is he alright?" he questioned. The kid - alright, so he was far from a kid these days, but compared to Whistler, he was just moving up form the pacifier stage - was the closest thing he had to family, and he didn't want to lose him.

You're getting sentimental in your old age, you know that?

Karen's expression grew solemn, and she obviously wasn't happy about having to tell Whistler what she was fixing to tell him. "We don't know. We believe he's fine, but he's with the vampires, we're pretty sure," she explained. "I doubt they've done anything with him, they know they still need him," she added to comfort Whistler.

It wasn't much comfort though, and the old man's features shifted into an expression of anger, worry, and his rarely seen, "Well, I don't know what the hell to do right now," face.

"He can take care of himself, Whistler," Karen stated. "And I know that from experience, as I'm sure you do as well," she reminded the old man. "He'll be alright, they still need him. They know the werewolves are becoming the threat that the vampires have been worried about for a long time."

Whistler nodded, reluctantly and with a heavy sigh of exasperation. "Yeah. But certainly can get himself into deep shit," he added. "I've had to save his ass a time or two myself." He gave Karen a curious look as he thought of something. "By the way, how'd everything go down with Frost?" he asked her. Blade hadn't spoken of it - Blade hadn't spoken o much of anything to anyone other than that vampire warrior princess - and he wanted to know how things went.

Nothing like stories of vampire carnage to liven up his mood.

"Well, Blade met his mother and the vampire responsible for her turning and Blade's, condition," Karen revealed, this time getting an actual expression of shock out of Whistler.

"You mean that little fu-" he stopped, hearing a growl coming from the male that had spoken. Whistler sighed and decided that for now he'd stop. As much as he hated giving in to the werewolf's rudely made request, he couldn't take on a full fledged lycanthrope. His leg wasn't up for it yet.

Starting over, he forced his brain to take out all the cuss words he was going to use and replace them with nicer, more polite words. He felt nauseas.

"So you're telling me that Deacon Frost was the one who bit Blade's mother and spawned the best vampire hunter out there?" Whistler as incredulously. "Well, it'd be ironic if it wasn't so pathetic. Frost was nothing but Michael J. Fox with fangs and a vicious attitude to boot!" He left out the fact that he'd also been responsible for Whistler's death and turning and Karen's abduction.

Besides, that was Frost's goons, not Frost himself, doing those things really.

Karen was trying not to laugh, and the two males were snickering over where they stood. "Well, as pathetic as it may be," she said, trying to regain her composure, "that's what happened. They used Blade's blood and if I hadn't been able to get away from this zombie like vampire," she paused, as if deciding on whether to leave something out or not, "I would have been able to get Blade out of the mechanism that was draining him. But I was, and after he got some blood back into his system, he ended up having to kill his mother."

Whistler winced, but nodded. Poor kid, having to go through that and not having anyone but Karen - no offence, but he didn't know her that long and wasn't that close to anyone except Whistler and "close" was stretching it most of the time - there afterwards. He wished he could have been there.

Damn vampires.

"What happened after that?" he asked, moving off the subject of Blade's mother. It wasn't a pleasant one even without Blade in the room.

"Well, a lot," Karen replied, looking over to the two males. "Gavin, could you go and get us humans some cooked meat?" she asked, and the one that had been as annoyed with Whistler as Whistler was with him nodded, smirking at her request.

Watching the annoying lycanthrope leave, Whistler then looked at Karen, arching an eyebrow.

"We're going to be here a while, and I don't know about you, but I'm getting a little hungry," she explained.

"Yeah, guess food would be good since I get the feeling this isn't going to be the most pleasant conversation in the world," Whistler stated. "Vampires," he muttered. "So full of shit."

* * *

Snowman flexed his left arm, relieved the pain had completed faded. He had gotten separated from Lighthammer and Verlaine while hunting the reapers, during an ambush by frenzied reapers. Those creatures always seemed frenzied and frantic, but this time it had almost seemed like they were scared of something, panicked.

He had been thinking about that for a while now. He couldn't see why they would be. They didn't fear vampires, they hunted and fed on them. They had almost fed on Snowman, but he'd been able to get away from the group, managing to kill a few of them off on the way. His arm had been broken in the process, but it was fully healed now.

Small price to pay for survival.

His mind wouldn't let the issue go though. Those reapers had acted scared, not just hungry. He knew it, he could see it in their eyes, tell it in their body language and their even more frenetic attack. He just couldn't comprehend why.

Lighthammer and Verlaine had been covered in the reapers, and he had heard his female comrade scream in pain. Upon returning here, back to base, he had gone into his room and had a moment of silence for both of them. He would honor their deaths though, and he knew the others wanted that too.

Though, it seemed unlikely that any of the reapers had survived. Snowman and Reinhardt hadn't been told what the mission was, but since Blade was still leading them, both males had assumed it because the mission hadn't been fully successful.

One good thing about keeping silent - it let Reinhardt run his mouth and give away pretty much everything he was thinking. His most prominent thoughts were these things, in this order:

Killing Blade.

Finishing off the surviving reapers.

Looking for another place to live after this, cause he was sick of Damaskinos and hated looking at him.

Getting laid by Nyssa.

Getting laid by Danica.

Getting laid by both at the same time.

Killing Blade.

Torturing Blade.

Getting laid period.

Throwing a party over the death of Blade's companion, Whistler, as he must be dead to not be around, yapping like a dog.

Snowman was missing his fallen comrades more and more by the second. He was getting tired of waiting on Blade and Nyssa, he and Reinhardt both suited up and prepared. And he was getting even more tired of listening to the demented ramblings of his last male comrade.

Finally, Nyssa entered, glancing at both of them. A questioning look entered her eyes, and she looked over to Reinhardt. She knew by now not to ask Snowman a question, because if Reinhardt - or back when the group had been whole, Chupa - was in the room, he would answer for Snowman.

"Where's Blade?" she asked pointedly, not surprising either of them. It had become quite obvious the vampire hunter and the vampire princess were growing, close.

Even Snowman could see that, and he was usually oblivious to anything more than his job.

"Right here," came the familiar voice of their reluctant leader, Blade entering the room, Scud behind him. Both were ready to go, though the human companion looked nervous as hell. More nervous than Snowman had ever seen.

First the reapers, now him.

"Everyone ready to go?" Blade asked, detached as ever and ready to go.

Reinhardt, Nyssa, and Snowman all nodded, and Blade nodded with approval.

"Good. Everyone have enough silver bullets?" he questioned, and Snowman caught the confused glance Reinhardt sent his way. He understood the feeling, but he kept his expression calm and indifferent.

Reinhardt turned back to Blade, thoroughly puzzled. "What do you mean? Silver doesn't work on reapers."

Blade looked at Reinhardt for a moment, then turned his head to Nyssa, who met the hidden gaze with what appeared to be a mixture of shame and surprise. "So, Daddy didn't tell his lackeys just what they were going up against - again?" he questioned, and Nyssa lowered her head.

"I wasn't aware they hadn't been informed, or I would have already told them," she replied. "But now that you're here, I'm sure you would rather handle it yourself," she added, glancing at him darkly.

Reinhardt sent another look at Snowman, and mouthed the words, "Lover's quarrel," to the silent vampire male, making Snowman almost smirk. It did almost seem that way, but considering the circumstances and who they each were, it was completely ridiculous.

Staring at Nyssa for a moment, Blade kept silent as did the rest of the occupants in the room. Then he nodded and focused back on Reinhardt and Snowman.

"I'm afraid that Damaskinos didn't inform you just what this mission is about. We're not hunting reapers. We're hunting werewolves."'

Reinhardt looked at Snowman, and Snowman looked right back. Well, that would explain the silver bullet comment. And could possibly fill in the missing piece of Snowman's internal puzzle concerning the reapers' fear.

* * *

Meira didn't have the energy to slam her door as she entered her room. She made sure it was closed and locked, then trudged over to the bed, falling onto it unceremoniously. She lazily pulled her legs all the way onto the bed as she tried to make sense of things.

It was a draining experience. Nomak was impossible for to make sense of right now, and it was frustrating her.

She had no idea why he had gotten to angry. No, she didn't think angry was a strong enough word. When she had stared him in the eye, she hadn't seen anger - she'd seen seething rage that he could barely contain. It had frightened her and angered her and interested her all at once.

It was times like these she wished she hadn't gone into the field of science. She had begun to think in logic and mathematics, reason, ration, no longer the wild, free thoughts of the wolf. Perhaps that was the real reason why she was so confused.

The wolf seemed to understand better. The wolf had wanted to push, had wanted to know his anger and test it with her own. The wolf had wanted to sniff him and taste him and stare him down.

He was almost more animal than she was, and perhaps that was why she didn't like being around him. He was unafraid to be vicious and to say his thoughts. He had no problem feeding in front of her - she had held back.

The only things he seemed to fear, if it could be called fear, were looks of contempt or pity. Of being put down, of being seen in a degrading light, of being thought of as nothing but a mindless monster to be hunted and killed like a rabid dog.

Meira sighed, clenching her eyes shut. She didn't want to think about him. She wanted to forget about his scalding words and the hunger in her stomach.

I should go get something to eat. I've still got my appetite somehow.

But she didn't want to move. She didn't want to feed, because she knew if she did, she would throw up. Her stomach was in knots, and the thought of eating reminded her of Nomak and her shame - her shame, how could she feel shame of what she was - and her pride and how she wouldn't let herself eat in front of him.

Maybe it wasn't such a mystery what had angered him after all.

Why am I so insecure all of a sudden? Why? Because of the punishment for punching Nomak? Because I let my anger take control then, and now I'm afraid to let the wolf have any freedom around him at all?

With a frustrated whimper, Meira rose form the bed, walking out of her room and down the hallway, her arms folded as she headed back to one of the kitchens. She was hungry, and she would eat, even if she would vomit afterwards. Maybe then she could have some peace. Perhaps she would go see how Karen was doing with the human guest.

"Hello, Meira," came a familiar, completely unwelcome voice, and Meira looked up to see Vladimir, along with the others from the team, back, heading for the team's quarters. "Fancy meeting up with you," he said, practically leering at her. He glanced at the others, motioning for them to go on ahead. "Go on and change and get some rest. You did well," he told them.

Meira watched, stiff and tense, as the others walked by. She returned the nods Donovan and Aysel sent her way in greeting, but received nothing more than the expected glower from Valora. Once they had passed, she looked back to Vladimir, trying to resist the urge to grab him and chuck him into the wall.

"What do you want?"

Vladimir smirked, chuckling softly. "You know what I want. The question is, why do you look so upset?" he asked, nearing her, when his nose crinkled and he sniffed with disgust. "Shit, Meira, you reek of that Reaper!"

"Yes. And it's much preferable to reeking of your scent!" she spat back. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be on my way so I can keep his stench and not have it replaced with yours," she snarled and started walking around him, but her arm was grabbed before she could get away.

"Look, Meira, Ulric gave me orders to lay off with the courting, but I will not allow you to be tainted by that reaper's company, got it?"

Meira gave Vladimir a baleful stare, her canines elongating as she growled softly. "Get your hands off me, or I swear, I will make you regret it so badly you'll have to be replaced for at least a year."

Abruptly, Vladimir pinned her to the wall, growling, but his lips formed a predatory grin. "You know our kind like violence, Meira. It's what we crave. We're animals, we aren't humans or vampires, or reapers," he said, the last one coming out like a foul taste in his mouth. "So why don't you make good on your promise?"


	6. Bloodlust

Author's note: Sorry this chapter took me so long, but my muse has been rather drained lately, mainly because of so many family emergencies I've been having to go through. Not sure when the next update will come, but hopefully sooner than this one came. Anyway, hope it was worth the wait, and as always, reviews are a wonderful thing.

Disclaimer: Don't own the characters from Blade, everybody else is mine. Please don't sue. Savvy?

* * *

CHAPTER FIVE: BLOODLUST

"Because I loathe having to degrade myself to your depths," Meira spat as she shoved Vladimir away from her and into the other wall, her eyes flooding black. She was tired and frustrated and confused, and she did not want Vladimir pushing her around like he owned her. "Now just piss off and let me go get something to eat," she muttered darkly, but the male had recovered before she could turn and walk away.

Vladimir grabbed her arm, yanking her to him. His teeth were bared, and his canines were longer, sharper. He was warding off the change at the moment, she could tell, but he leered at her with the promise of it approaching.

"What's going on?" came the loud, firm, slightly pissed off voice of Ulric. Almost immediately, Vladimir's demeanor became one of fear and submission, and he bowed his head before turning to face Ulric and Melantha who stood a few feet down the hall.

Meira nearly sagged with relief as Vladimir let her go. She knew she was almost Vladimir's equal, and she had a good chance of winning should they ever get into a fight. But she didn't want to fight him, and she didn't want to risk losing to him. Besides, he had been touching her way too much the past five minutes.

Ulric appeared calm, though his expression was fixed on Vladimir, and his expression was dark, eyes slightly narrowed. He was nothing compared to the near seething expression Melantha wore. While Ulric did not approve - especially after giving Vladimir orders to lay off Meira - of Vladimir's methods of courting, Melantha found them downright disgusting.

Perhaps if Meira's refusals had been purely playing hard to get the alpha female wouldn't have minded so much, and probably would have paid it no mind. But Meira was honestly disgusted by Vladimir, and his continual attempts at claiming her disgusted Melantha. She had never had any reason to find fault in Vladimir for several centuries, but since Meira had come to live at the headquarters, she realized there was some part of Vladimir that would never change.

"Meira, if you wish to go and get something to eat, go on," Melantha stated reassuringly to the younger female, and Meira gave her a grateful expression, walking towards her. "I shall accompany to make sure there are no more, delays," she stated, casting a baleful glance at Vladimir once again.

The beta wisely kept still and showed no sign of resenting the alpha female's comments. He knew Ulric wouldn't stand for that, and something every single werewolf who had ever met Ulric and Melantha knew one thing.

Never, ever show any disrespect to Melantha if you do not wish for a painful punishment from either her or Ulric. Which of them could dish out worse had never been agreed on.

"Forgive me, sir," Vladimir stated softly as Meira walked up to Melantha, sending him a disgusted glance. "I was out of place. I am slightly tired and irritated at how the hunt turned out, and let my emotions override my thinking."

A snort startled the four werewolves out of the tense scene, and all turned and glanced at Nomak as he headed towards them. Fully clothed once more, he wore his shirt, pants and shoes, and he looked perfectly normal except for the telltale scar running down his chin. He met Vladimir's eyes, his own mirroring the contempt in the beta's. "Why am I not surprised?" he asked derisively.

"I don't see how this concerns you," Vladimir snarled, giving into his emotions again. He found himself even more disgusted with the reaper for appearing in his human guise - and the surprised, fascinated stare it earned from Meira. "Son of Damaskinos," he added, his tone mockingly reverent as he inclined his head. "But of course, as a prince, you must imagine everything concerns you."

"Enough," Ulric stated softly, a dangerous edge to his voice. Gray irises became silver, the metallic hue bleeding like liquid metal until the color filled his eyes.

Nomak waved his hand in dismissal as he approached Vladimir, never taking his eyes off the beta male. His gaze had hardened, and his body shook slightly with barely contained rage. "No, no, let the man speak," he stated, emphasizing the word 'man'. He smirked with satisfaction when Vladimir growled in response. "If there's something on your mind, by all means," he told the bet, his tone deceptively accommodating.

Unable to hold back at the arrogant, cocky attitude, Vladimir balled his fist and raised it, aiming the punch at Nomak's jaw. But he underestimated Nomak, and found his fist being crushed by the reaper's grip. He bit back a groan of pain until bones snapped, and finally let out a hiss, his fist immediately released.

Meira watched from her place next to Melantha, fascinated with Nomak's normal appearance and the way in which he dealt with Vladimir. She forgot about the confusion stemmed from the reaper and his behavior around her as well as the way she behaved around him for the moment, intrigued by what was going to happen.

It was obvious the beta male would not be calmed now without a fight, and the reaper had no objections. Until things got too far out of hand and one of them was in danger if being killed, the alphas would not step in.

Which meant Meira would either see Vladimir beat Nomak, or Nomak beat the beta.

I seriously hope it's the latter, she thought to herself. _It would be so good to finally see someone other than Ulric put Vladimir in his place. Be even better if it's a non-lycanthrope._

she thought to herself. 

The two males stood still for several tense moments. Nomak stared at Vladimir calmly, rage and disgust in his eyes, the look mirrored in Vladimir's eyes as they narrowed to slits, a snort of contempt escaping him. That was all Nomak needed to burst, his anger and hatred finally too much for him to keep inside.

Without any warning, his palms impacted with Vladimir's chest, sending him into the wall with a loud crash, the wall cracking from the force and the werewolf's weight. Nomak didn't give Vladimir any time to recover, he knew if he did there was a chance Vladimir would change. Nomak was confident and knew he could beat Vladimir's ass into the ground - but not if the beta changed on him. But he wouldn't get the chance.

As Vladimir swiftly regained his balance, he was met with Nomak's fist, the punch brutal, shattering his nose. Blood spurted out, covering his nose down to his upper lip, the tan, human like skin of the reaper's knuckles stained crimson. A grunt escaped him at the initial hit, but he made no noise until he growled in anger, blocking the next punch and slamming his fist into Nomak's chest.

His breath left him, but otherwise Nomak made no sound or suffered much. He could tell Vladimir had fought those spawned from his bite, expecting their originator to have the same weaknesses. Grinning like a madman - and as far as most everyone was concerned, that's what Nomak was besides a monster - Nomak grabbed the beta's fist before he could pull his arm all the way back, twisting and breaking more bones even as the beta's nose healed. The reaper kicked the beta in the gut, then tossed him through the air by the damaged arm.

Vladimir snarled as he twisted, landing in a crouch, on one foot and one knee. He flexed his arm out and winced briefly as he healed, shaking his head as the cartilage in his nose healed fully. He rose to see Nomak had already moved to the ceiling, crawling until directly above him.

The reaper landing on top of him, feet slamming into his shoulders and driving Vladimir to the ground. Before Nomak could take advantage of his position, Vladimir grabbed his ankles, twisting them viciously. Nomak let out the same strange, high pitched noise many of the other reapers did, falling over to his knees.

Before Vladimir could even think of gloating over the fact that despite being stronger, Nomak was still a reaper, Nomak had his ankles twisted back into place, bones not even healed completely as he flipped over, landing and ignoring the slight pain. He growled as he heard Vladimir charge from behind. He would teach the mutt about calling him prince.

Vladimir had started to change as he ran at Nomak, but the reaper was faster than the transformation, turning and reaching out his hand to grab Vladimir's throat, squeezing the bones in his neck as they tried to contort. Vladimir couldn't hold back a soft howl at the pain and frustration, the reaper's grip strong enough to stop the change. He moved to slam his palm into the outside of Nomak's arm to break it, but Nomak let go quick enough, then punched Vladimir across the jaw.

"Is this how a prince fights?" Nomak hissed out, even as his skin paled, turning white as veins slowly began to appear, the cut in his chin opening slightly and briefly as he returned to his reaper state. With all the blood he'd ingested, as well as the rest he had been allowed, it had been no trouble to return to his more, normal, state. But now he no longer wanted it. He wanted Vladimir to see him as a reaper - and to see a reaper's face as he lie on the ground in a bloody heap.

The beta curled his lip in disgust, about to respond. He didn't get the chance though, as Nomak had no desire to hear his voice again, especially when delivering whatever his answer was. Instead of a reply, a grunt of pain came out of Vladimir as Nomak abruptly kicked him in the face. He recovered quickly, catching Nomak's hand before it could make contact with his throat, and twisted, breaking Nomak's arm in the same way the reaper had done to him earlier, not stopping until bone stuck out and yellow blood fell to the floor after spurting from the wound..

Nomak snarled and slammed his fist into Vladimir's face rapidly, getting in four punches before prying the beta's hand off his arm, yanking away and slamming his foot into the beta's chest. He stalked towards Vladimir as he regained balance, stretching his arm and twisting it, bones popping back into place before the skin healed beneath torn fabric. The palm of the healed arm slammed into Vladimir's throat before grabbing the beta by the hair and shoving his head into the wall. Nomak slammed his head against the wall once more before elongated claws left four, ugly gashes across his side.

As the reaper hiss and recoiled in pain, Vladimir attacked, swiping and slashing at Nomak. He cut the reaper across the chest and then the stomach before the reaper was able to grab his wrists, yanking him forward and head butting him brutally. He stumbled backwards and was soon tackled to the ground, Nomak brutally punching him in the face over and over.

Vampire prince. Damaskinos' prince. Damaskinos' son. Do I act like my father now? Do I act like his prince, his heir now? Do I act like a vampire now? Do you think of me as nothing but that decrepit being's spawn now? As a lower, sub vampire thing and a prince?

Nomak's thoughts ran wild in his mind as red blood splattered from Vladimir's face and into his fists, face, and shirt, mingling with his yellow blood as it oozed from his own wounds. The bloodlust wasn't even as strong as his anger now, but his thoughts blinding him and even as the beta groaned in pain, his legs rose, closing around Nomak's head and pulling him off.

Vladimir winced as he shook his head, sending blood drops everywhere. It hurt to blink, his nose was broken again, blood in his eyes, up his nostrils, in his mouth, some of his teeth lose. But he was already healing as he stood to his feet, wiping blood from his eyes. He ignored the pain as he focused on the reaper, Nomak rising as well.

Both males bellowed at each other, Vladimir's mouth changing slightly, teeth elongating as a snout almost formed, Nomak's mouth splitting open and a mixture between a reaper's shriek and a beast's roar emerged from him.

The alphas and Meira were forgotten completely by now, both of them focused on one thing and one thing only - to kill, to claim, to prove themselves superior.

Nomak waited for Vladimir to attack, catching the beta's leg as he aimed a kick for Nomak's head. He twisted and pulled Vladimir towards and then lifted him over, slamming the beta into the ground.

Vladimir kicked into Nomak's chest with vicious force before jumping back onto his feet. He kicked Nomak across the jaw as the reaper recovered, then punched him in the stomach. Twisting slightly, his elbow slammed into Nomak's throat, causing the reaper to cough and stumble back.

A smirk emerged on the beta's face, a mistake on his part, as Nomak's eyes noticed and narrowed, ignoring the pain in his sensitive throat before he grabbed Vladimir around the neck, head butting him before he began to apply pressure onto the beta's jaw. Just before he could break it, the beta kicked him in the knee, then yanked his arms away.

"You're pathetic," he snarled before punching Nomak in the nose, breaking it and pulling away a yellow blood covered fist. He spat on the reaper, then moved to grab his neck.

Nomak grabbed the arm and brutally twisted it almost all the way around, then bent it, finally earning a loud howl of agony from the beta. He shoved Vladimir to his knees, his body shaking with rage. "If I'm so pathetic, why are you on your knees in front of me?" he questioned, his tone cruel and cold.

Vladimir shook with his own rage, and with the change. He began to contort, and Nomak raised his hand to punch, when suddenly both of them were yanked apart, hitting opposite walls hard enough that the walls nearly caved in completely.

"Enough!" Ulric bellowed, his voice practically a roar, and his eyes were pure silver. He gave each male a long, hard stare of disapproval and disgust at their foolish pride. "I will not have either of you dead and you're bloody up plenty enough now," he said, voice softer, but there was a frightening edge to it, one that effected even Nomak.

The sound of approaching footsteps caused all three males to turn towards Melantha as she neared, her irises black and larger than normal. Her expression was calm though, and she placed a hand on Ulric's shoulder comfortingly, though her grip was firm. She then glanced at the male reaper and the beta, sighing in annoyance.

"Both of you should learn humility," she murmured, then focused on Vladimir. It was obvious that she would be giving the punishments in Ulric's stead while the alpha male calmed himself down, his irritation with both of them clouding his judgment.

"You will go clean yourself up, then prepare to report how the hunt went," she said firmly, then turned her gaze to Nomak. "You will go and clean yourself as well, and I suggest staying in your room for now, until someone can come and help you know what areas to avoid for the time being," she instructed, her meaning clear. She didn't want another fight ensuing for a good, long while.

Vladimir bowed his head in submission and obedience, casting one final, baleful glare in Nomak's direction before standing and walking down the hall in the direction the rest of his team had gone earlier. He hoped they had already gone back to their chambers and hadn't heard the fight. He really didn't feel like explaining it right now.

Nomak watched him leave, his eyes narrow and filled with quieted contempt. He did not bow his head in submission, but nodded. He would do as she told, but he would not bow to any of them, not even Ulric whose strength in that one small action of pulling the feuding males apart had caused more pain than all of Vladimir's blows combined. He was not of their kind, and he was not vampire. He would not bow.

Shrugging off the pain he felt as he rose, he turned to leave. His mind was a tumble of thoughts as he stalked down the hallway, his eyes closing as he tried to make sense of them all.

You should have tasted his blood. You should have given him your curse. You should have ignored him altogether, ignored him, shown him you were a prince to him, far superior to him. You shouldn't even listen to the female. You shouldn't listen to any of them. You should go. They want something from you, they want you to do something, they want to take something. It's all the same. All they want is to use you for their own benefit. They don't care about you or like you or want to help you. Not without a price. There's always a price. You learned that from Father. They find you repulsive, just like Vladimir, just like Meira, just like Nyssa, just like Father.

A soft, cool hand suddenly grabbed his, holding his palm gently. The feeling jarred Nomak out of his thoughts, making him pause in his stride as he turned to see Meira had followed him, caught up with him. Her cooler fingers wrapped around his hand, her grip tightening just the tiniest bit, as if to make sure he didn't try to turn and keep walking.

"Your wounds should be cleaned, and you could probably use more blood to make up for all you lost," she stated softly, her expression calm. She showed no annoyance or fear or repulsion or anger towards him, no sign of ever being aggravated with him or sick of him, or having fallen victim to his verbal ire. She confused him once more, and he couldn't make himself move, too fascinated with the change.

Taking his silent stillness as a yes, Meira turned, leading him down the hallway. She gave the alphas a soft smile, Melantha placing a hand on her shoulder briefly, eyes meeting Meira's. There was a question in the alpha female's and an answer in Meira's, but Nomak couldn't tell what either were.

Ulric had calmed and stood silent by Melantha's side, his eyes meeting Nomak's for a moment. "I am sorry for Vladimir's comments to you," he stated softly. "Go with Meira. She'll take care of you," he added, taking Melantha's hand. "You and I should go and find out just what went on to rile Vladimir up so badly," he whispered to her, briefly nuzzling her hair with his nose. He inhaled her scent, a look of pleasure crossing his features briefly.

Nomak cocked his head to the side as he watched. He felt Meira pull his hand gently, just enough to get him to start walking again, following her with his feet while his eyes remained on the alpha's. He was curious of them, of how they reacted towards each other, of how they acted around each other. He didn't understand it quite fully, but right now he was being taken away by something that confused and fascinated him even more.

He tore his gaze from the alpha pair as they headed in the opposite direction, focusing his attention on Meira once again. It probably hadn't even been an hour since he'd snapped at her, insulted and hurt more than he wanted to admit by her actions.

There had been nothing in her eyes to offend him this time. That struck him as odd, because until he had looked in her eyes, he had been ready to find offense in anything and everything. But the look in her eyes had been so, so calm. Concerned and respectful and calm. It had struck him as odd, strange, and he couldn't figure it out.

Nomak couldn't help but feel curious. Despite his age, he was still so much a child in many social areas. He secretly longed to understand people and interaction, but he was fearful of it, fearful of coming out to observe it closely. He was a fast learner in everything, he could copy anything he saw.

But not the motives behind so much interaction between lovers, friends, family, strangers who helped each other, passing acquaintances that smiled and shook hands, offering friendly greetings and farewells. He could copy the actions, but not the reasons behind them. Not yet.

He wanted to know the reasons behind her actions now.

* * *

Eliska sat on a stool behind the counter of the gas station, reading over the latest headlines. At her feet Katerine played with her rattler while she sucked on her pacifier, a few giggles and coos emitting from her every so often. Eliska would check on her every couple of minutes, but for now her baby seemed quite content to just make noise with her rattler.

Katerine had been a miracle though, and Eliska could be somewhat paranoid when it came to her. The doctors had said Katerine wouldn't survive, that something was wrong with her heart. But Katerine had survived, and had grown healthy, though she still had a few problems with her heart that had to be checked on regularly. Still, she was alive, she was well for the most part, and she was her mother's pride and joy.

Poor Miklos couldn't even convince his wife to let Katerine stay home with him during her night shifts. As soon as Eliska had been told to come back in to work, she had asked if she could bring Katerine in, just keep her behind the counter and make certain she behaved. To Miklos' disappointment and concern, the manager had given Eliska permission to do so. Miklos still believed it was a bad decision, and they had been having a few arguments over it lately.

Deep down, Eliska knew it was wrong of her to show so little trust in her husband, and to keep his child away from him, but it was more for her own piece of mind than the fact that she didn't have faith in his ability to take care of Katerine.

A small whine from Katerine grabbed Eliska's attention and she looked down to see the little girl had dropped her pacifier on the ground. Quickly grabbing her bag, Eliska fished around for the backup pacifier while she whispered soothingly to the sniffling baby until finally finding the backup. She held it out to Katerine.

The familiar sound of the door chime rung in Eliska's ears at the same time Katerine's chubby, little fingers wrapped around her new pacifier, "helping" Momma put it in her mouth. She giggled and cooed happily as she suckled on it, placated now.

Eliska looked up to see the customer looking at the refrigerated beverages they sold in the gas stop. She briefly glanced over him before returning to her paper until he needed her assistance. She had taken in the look of his clothes and appearance, figuring he was probably a businessman hurrying home after working late at the office. She met a lot of those types when she worked the nightshift.

That had been another argument she had used against Miklos. Katerine kept the stressed out and possibly philandering-prone men from overtly flirting with her. That had been the clincher in her keeping Katerine at work.

_Next week I should start leaving you home every other night though_, she thought reluctantly as she glanced back down at her baby. _Your papa misses you, and he wants to help raise you too. He deserves some time with you too. It's just so hard_.

Hearing the man's footsteps getting louder, closer, she set aside her newspaper and looked up, giving him a friendly smile as he placed a bottle of water on the counter. She rang up his gas price and the bottled water, took the money, gave him the change, and watched him as he walked out and went on his merry way. They exchanged the normal, brief chatter that went on between her and her customers, and nothing deviated from her routine except for the face and voice.

_All in a night's work._

Boris looked at his watch, wincing. His wife was going to kill him. He had worked past midnight for the last four nights. Tonight made five. His last day of work for the week, and not even his last night could he get done early. He was not looking forward to getting home and finding his pillow on the couch.

Sylvia just didn't understand. His bosses were powerful. Very powerful. And with all the mess they were having to clean up lately, he was buried under paperwork.

_I'll make it up to her. I'll get up early tomorrow and fix her breakfast, maybe run out to get her some flowers. Shit. I should have looked for flowers in that little store before paying for the gas_, he scolded himself, nearly smacking his forehead with disgust at himself. _I'll go back in. These places usually have something that can pass for a nice gift from a sorry husband._

_

* * *

_

Boris nodded to himself as he stopped, then turned around to go back in. But he was facing something big, blocking his view of the gas station convenience store.

Not something. Someone.

Boris looked up, his eyes widening as he saw the face of the person - maybe thing had been the correct assumption - and a scream started to build up as his mouth opened wide. He had never seen anything like this, it wasn't vampire, it wasn't human, it was a thing, an ugly, mutated thing.

With a growl, the humanoid creature opened his maw and leaned in, attaching himself to the man's neck and quickly getting to work on draining the man dry. His hand covered the still wide open mouth, smothering Boris' scream.

* * *

Eliska was surprised when she heard the door chime again barely even three minutes after the last costumer. She looked up from her reading material, then stiffened.

The man who had entered was tall, very tall, and broad. He wore a black, hooded coat, the hood up and covering his head. His face was hidden from view by it as he walked over to the beverages, looking through the glass doors at the different drinks. His steps were completely silent, despite the combat boots she glimpsed him wearing, and he made no sound except the soft rustle of fabric brushing against fabric when he moved.

Eliska tried to pretend she was reading her paper and not outwardly stare, but something about the man gave her the creeps. She didn't like his presence, didn't like how his face was hidden from her, didn't like how quiet it had suddenly gotten in the store.

Stop it. You're just being paranoid. You think it's too quiet because he knows how to be quiet. Don't be so jittery, Katerine can always sense it when you're jittery.

Taking a soft, but deep breath, Eliska looked down at Katerine, who was watching her mother curiously. She forced a smile for her baby, amazed at how Katerine knew when her mother was upset about something. But then Katerine was her little miracle baby.

Eliska relaxed slightly, sighing to herself as she shook her head, briefly glancing out the window. Her eyes landed on that businessman's car. His empty car. With no sign of him anywhere near it. The hose not even removed from the vehicle yet.

Tensing and starting to almost tremble, Eliska turned to see what the man was doing but found he was already standing right in front of the counter, hood pulled back to reveal a horrifying face from a nightmare. She heard Katerine start to wail and tried to move away from the monster and grab her child, but strong hands gripped her shoulders and yanked her across the counter.

Eliska barely had time to regret not listening to Miklos and leaving Katerine with him during her nightshift before her body was paralyzed as the creature began to drain her dry, Katerine's wails slowly growing softer as darkness overtook Eliska's mind.


	7. Complications and Awkward Situations

Author's note: Well, I finally got this chapter done, so sorry it took me so long. With school, my writing course, hectic schedule, and other projects, my attention is having to be divided and my fanfics can get neglected. But this chapter is fairly long, so hopefully you'll forgive me. Though it ends on a cliffy. Very sorry, but the muse wanted it to end there. Hope you enjoy it though, and reviews are wonderful, I love getting them.

Disclaimer: I own the werewolves and Faris, but that's it. No suing me, ok? I'm not making money off this, and you killed off my favorite character, Mr. Goyer, so you shouldn't make any money off this either.

* * *

CHAPTER SIX: COMPLICATIONS AND AWKWARD SITUATIONS

Valora was chewing her lip when Vladimir stormed into the "locker room" area of the offensive security team's quarters. It was a bad habit of hers. A very bad one, considering her sharper canines. But she had developed it long before she had even heard of werewolves - though she had been young enough to believe in anything she heard of, including werewolves - and the bad habit stuck like, well, a bad habit.

She knew that if not for Meira, she would have Vladimir. She knew that if he was not constantly seeing the pureblood princess, he would be able to end his intentions towards her, and focus them on Valora instead.

But they lived in the same, fricking building. And even lycanthrope males could be just as predictable as human males. All males, really. They always wanted that which they could never have. Especially if they kept getting it rubbed in their faces.

And you aren't doing the exact same thing? No, of course not. Because you liked to "remind" yourself that if another worthy male came along, you would drop Vladimir. Or drop your desire for him, at least, since you can't drop what you don't hold. Or something like that.

Vladimir was loyal but fierce. He was good leader, but he was a good follower when it came to Ulric and even Melantha. Still, there were times Valora saw rebellion in his eyes, but he controlled it. Perhaps that was what drew her to him. He could control it so well usually.

Or so she thought, until she heard Vladimir storming towards the locker room - which really only had a few lockers, and was co-ed, but was mainly just used for when someone had to get cleaned up quickly between missions - the scent of blood heavy and filling her nostrils.

His injured, bloodied state had caused Valora to literally gape at him in shock. She had never seen him in such a state, and soundproof walls made sure she didn't hear whatever commotion that had lead to his current appearance. He was also fuming, that was obvious, and he didn't even seem to notice her presence.

The familiar stench of reaper blood met her nostrils as well, and she saw some of the gooey, amber liquid on Vladimir, mixing with his crimson blood. For a moment she was confused - she knew he had cleaned off most of the blood from the tunnels ambush, after he changed back to human form - until she remembered that the carrier reaper was now Ulric's guest.

Should have seen this coming. He's a vampire prince turned into an even more dangerous - and unstable, most likely - being. Why wasn't he kept contained the whole time?

Valora eyed the Beta male with caution, knowing this was not the time to rub him the wrong way. Which meant she had to be quiet and leave before he noticed her, because when he was this angry - Valora had only seen him this angry twice, but she had heard stories form those that had been around for longer - anything and everything could rub him the wrong way.

Her efforts failed her though, as the moment she rose to try and slip out, Vladimir whirled around and focused his dark eyes on her. She tensed slightly, but otherwise showed the same respect and attitude towards him as usual. Except, she had kept her attraction to a minimum, trying to hide it completely.

Vladimir let out a growl before he relaxed slightly and turned from her, slamming his fist into a locker, crushing it, the metal bending at his strength. He panted, head bowed as he visibly struggled with himself, and for a moment Valora wondered if he would lose to the wolf. But soon his breathing had calmed and he stood straight, hand falling to his side.

"Sorry for appearing so, out of control," he stated softly, turning and giving her the look he often gave those on his team when he felt he had failed them or shown weakness as a leader. "But, things are becoming more tense. Our, guest, still believes himself a prince," he muttered darkly, his accent becoming even more pronounced. He then closed his eyes and forced away the scowl, face becoming a neutral mask once more.

Confused, concerned, and cautious, Valora slowly took a few steps towards Vladimir, eyeing his condition. He looked pretty bad, worse than she had ever seen him before from just one opponent. The scents radiating off him made her cringe and unconsciously lick her lips.

"What happened?" she asked softly, her curiosity getting the better of her, and she didn't notice the way her breathing was picking up ever so slightly.

With an almost defeated sigh, Vladimir turned away from her and tore off his ruined shirt, which only caused Valora's breathing to speed up more, and she finally became aware of the increasingly loud howls inside her head as her heart began to race. He didn't seem to notice though, or was ignoring her reactions as usual, instead keeping his back to her as he continued undressing.

"I'm not in the mood to explain things calmly," he replied gruffly, then paused, sniffing the air. "Good. Those two are done here," he muttered as he removed his boots, the reference obvious to her.

After all, there had been plenty of times she and some of the others would avoid the showers until Donovan and Aysel were done. Unless someone was in the mood to watch and then get their genitals damaged beyond repair.

Vladimir removed his pants and Valora licked her canines, fingers itching to remove the last piece of clothing for him, then take advantage of the area that would be exposed. But she kept herself in check, instead opting to just enjoy the show he was giving her for some reason. She realized he certainly was in a foul, strange mood if he was giving her almost too much temptation to bear.

"What did they do with Nomak?" Valora asked, taking a step closer, biting her lip and chewing hard as she tried to get rid of the growing ache between her thighs. But she gave up when Vladimir removed his last garment and turned slightly, giving her a brief glimpse. She avoided that area though, figuring it probably wasn't wise to openly stare when he was looking right at her.

It was that she hadn't seen him before, she had. Plenty of times. But never like this. Never alone, tensions thick for various reasons and causes, the heavy scent of blood lingering and filling her nostrils, his actions showing no sign that he cared if she was lusting after him or not. This time, it was a lot harder to control her urges.

"He's probably being tended to by Meira," Vladimir said with a disgusted but resigned tone, and jealousy laced his words, cutting Valora, but it only heightened her desire, bringing her anger out to mingle. Vladimir started to turn from her to head into the showers, but she pounced, keeping him there.

They hit a few lockers, leaving dents in the metal. Valora pressed herself against him and she felt claws dig into her hips as he tried shoving her away, but her own claws latched onto his shoulders, digging in and getting a good grip, her mouth against his. And then he was returning it, pinning her to the ground, growling dominantly, and she felt him harden against her.

Triumph surged through Valora's veins, the wolf howling with victory, and she purred into Vladimir as he kissed her savagely, canines sharp and long and nipping at her lips and tongue, drawing blood that he licked up as he tore her shirt off, the fabric ripping but the sound didn't even register in Valora's mind. All she was aware of was she finally was getting what she wanted. A selfish part of her felt a strange sense of gratitude towards Jared Nomak - it was Vladimir's anger and remaining energy that was getting her this. She didn't delude herself into thinking he truly wanted her.

Yet.

Loud gasps and grunts emerged from the two werewolves as they moved against each other, with each other. Vladimir's fingers moved to Valora's pants to rip them off, Valora's claws raked down his back and over his ass cheeks, hips arching up slightly as he began to grind into her instinctively. They were so caught up in the lust for mating they didn't smell pr hear Ulric's approach, not even registering his presence until he cleared his throat.

The two werewolves froze, eyes opening and meeting before their heads tilted so they could look up at the Alpha male, who looked down at them with a slightly impatient look, eyes focusing on Vladimir, the head lycanthrope all business.

Valora felt herself turn red, cursing mentally. She felt as if her whole body was turning a bright, shameful red as she laid there beneath Vladimir, but Ulric wasn't paying attention to her. She just prayed word of this never reached Melantha - the Alpha female was rather, possessive, of her mate.

"Report," Ulric stated with a neutral tone, arms folded over his chest, and he appeared to be hiding anger beneath his calm, detached demeanor. He obviously wasn't in the best of moods, but what scared Valora most was how he never showed his anger. He was always calm. No matter what happened, he was always calm it seemed.

She began to wonder how frightening it must be for those who actually saw him lose his calm - if and when that ever happened.

Vladimir never once moved, not to cover her better or remove himself from her completely, but remained perfectly still as he gave the Alpha their report of how things went in the tunnels. He explained that there were some remaining reapers, but all were dead - except one, though he wasn't sure if it had been a reaper or not, but there was someone else down there that was away from the group. That one got away.

Judging by the tightening of Ulric's jaw and the brief tick in his cheek, that news didn't settle well on the already angered Alpha. But he didn't say anything more, simply nodded and turned, striding out of the room and down the hall. His wordless departure made Valora even more nervous and more confused over just what exactly had happened earlier.

There was a shift above her, and then Vladimir was standing, turning his back to her and walking towards the showers. He paused, glancing over his shoulders after a moment, but Valora knew not to get her hopes up, nor did she have the strength to now. It was obvious he wasn't going to take her now.

"This never happened. Be thankful," he stated softly, but firmly, then walked into the showers, disappearing from sight, leaving her empty and frustrated.

Valora let out a mournful roar before she pulled herself up, walking over to her locker to pull out a new shirt, the other one beyond repair. She heard the sound of water running and could smell the soap Vladimir was using to wash off his and Nomak's blood and her scent. Valora's clenched fist hit the locker at her right, leaving just as much damageas Vladimir's punch had.

* * *

Faris was an oddity among Damaskinos' enforcers. He was not a pureblood or a familiar. In fact, he was not only an oddity, but a rarity. He was the only halfbreed Damaskinos allowed among him threshold. He had worked hard to be accepted and turned, too, and it had taken him almost his whole life.

The son of a raped familiar, Faris was raised among vampires. He knew their customs better than human customs, even. He could speak some vampiric, most of it picked up, not taught, but that had taken him about five years to figure out. He was raised to be a familiar enforcer, but he longed to be a vampire.

After his mother's death, Faris had taken his place as an enforcer. He was nearly twenty-five at the time, and served loyally until he was reaching his mid thirties. Around that time, he was wounded, fatally, but a human vampire hunter bent on eradicating the vampire race because his parents had been turned. Faris had struggled with the other human, an ended up with a bowie knife in his stomach.

Though, to be fair, the human hunter had ended up with a broken neck.

Faris still couldn't remember who exactly had turned him, but he was just thankful to still be alive and finally be the vampire he had always longed to be. Since then, he had trained even more, becoming just as good as most of the members of the Bloodpack - better than a certain few, actually, in his opinion - but Damaskinos had kept him as a personal enforcer, not allowing the halfbreed to join the fighting squad meant to take out Blade.

The disappointment had been deep, but he hadn't shown it. He knew it was because he was a halfbreed, not because Damaskinos honestly preferred him there because of his skills. He was not unaware of the purebloods' view on halfbreeds. But that didn't mean he was never effected by it. He was. He just learned to get over it.

Unlike Danica Talos. Danica was determined to rise up in the vampiric ranks, determined to become just as powerful as some purebloods. She despised the way she was treated by purebloods, and she showed it. If she wasn't such a bratty, little bitch, Faris might have been able to respect her for her perseverance and strong will.

And now, as she was emerging from the library, Faris knew he would be the subject of her strong will. He strong, bitchy, bratty, overly selfish and overly sexual will. Her eyes landing on him and narrowing with obvious contempt proved him right.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" she asked, her tone just as conceited and disgusted as usual. "I thought you would be out doing slave labor in the fields," she said with a bitter tone, her words meant to bite his calm. She had been like this ever since she'd discovered she'd been used by him.

Faris simply rolled his eyes, then grabbed her arm and twisted hard. He smirked slightly at the yelp she gave before he led her away from the archives. She had taken a little more than two hours, but not two and half. At two and a half, he would have gone in there to retrieve her.

Danica snarled at him and struggled, beating on his hand with her fist before clawing at it and trying to stomp on his feet with her heels. In the end, she just broke one heel and couldn't walk without his help unless she took her shoes off. Struggling to keep her pride intact around him, she let him lead her away quietly, but her eyes glared ice and daggers.

"So, you're just a guard dog and an escort now? Pathetic," she muttered, shaking her head. "Don't you realize what kind of sick freak you are, acting like this? You suck up to that old marble statue and cling to the hope that one day you'll not just be a vampire, you'll be accepted as a vampire, as a pureblood would be," she continued, but Faris remained silent, ignoring her. "You never will be, Faris. You never will be, because you're too weak in their eyes, too, contaminated," she hissed, her tone acidic. "You are nothing. You're nothing but a familiar on steroids. Even lower. You're a dog on steroids."

Faris let go of Danica as she finished speaking, glancing over to her waiting brother and Jarko Grimwood, the latter giving him a glare and a snarl, his expression making it clear he still hated Faris as well, and was itching to whale on the other halfbreed. Faris half wanted him too - it would be quite satisfactory to beat Grimwood into the ground again. Especially after Danica's words.

"Go home, Danica. Find someone with a big dick and fuck them and get your frustrations out while you drain them dry like the succubus you are," Faris told her with a firm, contemptuous tone, then turned and stalked away, walking over to the control panel to shut the door once Danica and her entourage left. He ignored the dark glares and muttered curses under Danica's breath, just listened to the sound of her stumble along as Ash and Jarko were forced to help her walk out.

He wouldn't let Danica's words get to him, he wasn't that low. He was a target of her contempt merely because of their previous involvement. That was all. He wouldn't let her words get to him, because he had gotten to her, after all. Every time he suffered her tongue lashings, it was purely because he'd damaged her pride. He should feel proud.

* * *

Melantha sighed softly as she silently strolled into the indoor garden. It was peaceful, fresh, calming. The serene aura of it washed over the Head Alpha Female, and she took in a deep breath as she headed over to sit with Silvia, her pace slow and languid as she felt her mind and body calm. She wished Ulric had come to join her, but he sought to relieve his frustration another way.

His loss, Melantha thought with a faint smirk that faded into concern. She hoped Ulric would take care of himself - of course, she thought that every time he left, and every time he came back perfectly fine. Why she hadn't been able to move past worrying in thousands of years, well, she did know.

Watching Silvia as she neared the lower ranking Alpha reminded Melantha of a past heartache that still flared up every now and then, and told her exactly why she feared for her mate every time he left their sanctuary.

Sitting down in a chair beside Silvia, the two females remained silent, taking in the sights and sounds and scents of the garden.

It was cavernous almost, the top only reachable due to their lycanthropic strength giving them the ability to jump as high as some buildings. The glass was misty, keeping the sunlight from being too harsh, but allowing the light of that bright star and the moon to filter in. The plants were wild and beautiful, flowers blooming everywhere, except for the select few that were night blooming.

"We haven't talked in a while, Silvia," Melantha finally stated, glancing over at the other Alpha female, seeing the lines and cares and heartaches she hid from all the others, especially Meira. "I know we were never the best of friends, but we talked. It's been years now."

The other female closed her eyes, as if in pain, and she nodded, opening them as she slowly turned her head to meet Melantha's gaze. "Every time I visit, I smell him, and I see my daughter grow more and more distant," she whispered softly. "I, I almost want to hate Ulric for taking her away from me, but she's better off here," Silvia admitted, looking down again.

There was a brief flicker of anger in Melantha, but she soothed it, reaching over and placing her hand on Silvia's shoulder. She needed to offer comfort, not grow protective over nothing - it was perfectly understandable for Silvia want to have her daughter with her at all times, after all.

"She loves you. But she isn't like you. She has your strength and strong will, and his stubbornness," Melantha told the other female, earning a brief, bittersweet smile. "She loves science. Right now, she isn't sure of her place. Losing her father and nearly losing you has left her unsure of what she wants, and she is battling with her wolf. She resents your position and how it keeps you from her, but she doesn't resent you," she explained to Silvia, her time around Meira giving hr insight into the young female's troubles.

"I hate myself sometimes. Why did I fight so hard to keep my position, and keep all males from taking the one left empty by his death?" Silvia asked, her eyes glassy and questioning.

Melantha smiled faintly and stroked Silvia's hair back, her own eyes growing wet, stinging as that old heartache returned, a sharp pain in her chest, merciless and cruel. "Because you knew it was for the best. Because you were worthy, and because no other was worthy to take his place in your eyes. You are a good Alpha, Silvia. And a good mother. Meira would throw a fit if you ever stepped down or let another male come in. She resents your position, but she understand and supports your reasons for keeping."

The younger female looked down a soft shudder the only movement from her besides her shaky breathing for the next several moments. "Rolf always loved the gardens here," she finally whispered, her tone mournful and strained.

Closing her eyes, some of that stinging wetness slipped from Melantha's eyes and she nodded, opening her burning eyes and looking around. "I used to let him play in the gardens of our old home when he was little. He all but grew up in them. He once told me he didn't remember those days, but some part of him did," she whispered in reply, fond memories making her smile and more tears spilled.

"He once told me he used to resent your position, as you say Meira resents mine. The both of you," Silvia stated, glancing back at Melantha. "He told me that he finally understood you and his father after becoming Alpha. Maybe one day Meira will find her place as an Alpha. Perhaps then she won't resent any of us anymore."

A soft smile curved Melantha's lips and she nodded. "When you leave next week, she will mourn you, and she will cry. She always does. But she won't accept any comfort. She's just like her father in that regard," she informed Silvia, and the other female closed her eyes, a rueful smile forming.

"She certainly is. Sometimes she won't even let me know she's hurting. He always tried to hide it from me too." There was a long pause, and Silvia gave her mother-in-law a grateful smile as the older female wrapped an arm around her. "He tried to hide it even when he was dying."

Melantha closed her eyes, even while Silvia shuddered and cried in silence. She quietly prayed Ulric would return home safely as she held the other Alpha female comfortingly.

* * *

Nyssa strode beside Blade, Scud walked near them, Snowman and Reinhardt bringing up the rear. They were back in the tunnels, searching around. There were reaper remains everywhere, but not a sign of anything alive. The scent of werewolf was heavy though, which led Nyssa to believe it was possible Ulric, the werewolf leader, had sent out a scout party, and that there possibly had been some alive, but not after the lycanthropes finished their search.

Snowman and Reinhardt hadn't said anything about not being told about the werewolves, but had taken in the information with heavy sighs and Reinhardt had made some sarcastic comments about fighting off parasites and dogs at the same time.

Blade had ignored the comment and told them they would head down to the tunnels, see if there were any leads. He had been informed that going straight to the werewolf headquarters was impossible since a, they didn't know where it was and b, it was heavily guarded, the leader of the race being a strong, tactical leader who protected his species with a fierce dedication.

Of course, Blade had made a comment aimed at her father that struck Nyssa like a slap to the face, but what bothered her most was that she was allowing his comments to hurt. At one point she had been able to ignore them or merely feel insult and righteous anger. Now she felt shame and hurt.

She was supposed to protect her father's reputation, not silently wish he couldn't be talked lowly of by a being lower than a halfbreed, though strong as any pureblood. But now she merely gave Blade a dark glare and kept her silence when he threw insults at her father.

Nyssa wondered though, was Blade right? Was her father really a poor leader, abandoning his people to hide away and preserve his own life? Was that dishonorable, his dedication to survival over his people? Was he truly like that? No, he was good and honorable, searching for a way to save his people. He sought to preserve himself so he could save his race. Perhaps not every single one, but his intentions were for the good of their race. Blade was wrong about him.

Absently fingering the ring she wore, Nyssa cast a sidelong glance at Blade, keeping it brief, her expression bored, hiding her interest and confusion. She wasn't sure how to be around him anymore. He had proved himself honorable, he had acted almost, protective, of her, concerned for her, and it confused her.

Since learning of the werewolves and the recent developments, he had grown distant and cold again. Why did that hurt so much? It wasn't supposed to hurt so much. She wasn't supposed to care about him, but about the mission, and then killing him when it was done. Now she wanted nothing to do with his death, but with finding out why he hated her kind just so much.

Did he think they were murderers? They were just the top of the food chain. After all, there were some humans that believed animals had souls, were just as sentient as humans and vampires and werewolves were. But most humans still ate animals, why should the vampires be any different with the humans? Did he really want them all to just feed off the same food humans ate? To degrade themselves to act like bums and scavengers?

Nyssa shut her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, and she felt eyes on her. Opening her pair once more, she met Blade's gaze seeing the almost uninterested curiosity in his eyes. "The smell," she muttered, and the Daywalker nodded and looked away once more.

She wanted to glare at him with contempt and insult, but even her self hatred at the inability to do so was interrupted by a strong scent of werewolf and footsteps, soft, almost completely silent, but apparently it was either a young werewolf or one who didn't mind being heard.

The others all paused, Blade holding up a hand for silence, his expression one of concentration, while Scud fidgeted like usual, only more nervously this time.

Scud had been rather, paranoid, since learning he would be coming down to the tunnels this time, and Nyssa was almost amazed he hadn't fired that gun he was clutching tightly in both hands at one of the rats scurrying around.

Nyssa took her focus off him and returned it to the approaching werewolf. It was male, she gathered that from his scent, and he was heading towards them from the tunnel ahead of them, to their left. As the footsteps grew nearer, Blade signaled for them to head into the tunnel they'd passed, the five of them slipping into it, weapons drawn and ready.

Blade glanced at her, his eyes at her weapon - the twin blades she'd used on him when they first "met." She caught the same look she'd seen in his eyes back at the warehouse when he told her about the UV bomb, and part of her felt relief that he still held some of his concern - he was making sure she had protection, was safe.

The Daywalker didn't meet her eyes as he looked away, possibly aware of her eyes on him, the look in her eyes. It was likely he didn't want to meet it, because he didn't want to admit the concern he felt.

Nyssa understood that all too well. But to her reproach, she was losing the guarded demeanor around him.

The two of them focused on the werewolf once more, Scud making a small noise, immediately getting whacked upside the head by Reinhardt, and then the group was silent again. The footsteps were out in the main tunnel now, heading towards their, and they stood poised, ready to attack.

Nyssa's mouth nearly dropped open when the male lycanthropic came into view, walking directly in front of their tunnel and standing so he faced him.

Dressed in an impeccable pinstriped suit, his hair brushed back, beard trimmed neat and short, silver eyes filled with a strange kind of Mirth, Ulric gave them a toothy grin, canines long and sharp, making vampire fangs look like baby teeth. His gaze took in all of them, then focused on Nyssa and Blade, making the female vampire want to squirm under her armor, that gaze penetrating her like two silver bullets, their specialized weapons useless against the lead Alpha.

"Well, well, well," the lycanthrope Alpha murmured in a hypnotic, condescending voice filled with a sick amusement. "Damaskinos sent out the remains of his ragtag, little team. And I thought my outing would be boring."


	8. Vermilion

Author's note: Well, I was able to update this story rather quickly for once, and even then it took me a while. But, here it is. Nothing too big happens, this is more of an introspective chapter, but I will have the action scenes next chapter. Anyway, hope you like, enjoy, reviews are really, really appreciated.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except the werewolves.

* * *

CHAPTER SEVEN: VERMILION

They reached the nearest, unoccupied lab within five minutes. The room was cool, but sterile. All white and steel and chemicals and needles. There was a fridge, and Nomak was certain it was filled with bags of blood just as the other one had been. The thought made him ache slightly, his mind suddenly registering how much he hurt and how hungry he was.

The fight had taken a lot out of him. It had been worth it though. Still, his throat and mouth ached, dry and cottony. His head ached from all the hits he'd taken, as did his bones, but his mind hurt with all the complicated, conflicting thoughts and emotions. Better to simply have the pain of the fight, to feel that disgusting amber blood of his oozing down his skin from where he had been cut. Better to be sore and burning with hunger, such a terrible hunger, than to have these confusing thoughts.

But now he had all of it. The physical and the mental and the emotional. He'd not had that before, not even after the House of Pain, after his time around Nyssa and the fight with Blade. Not even when he had first mutated and all the events surrounding that and his escape, never, nothing. He'd never had these feelings and thoughts, nothing had brought such confusion and conflict to him.

One female had done this to him. Just one, lycanthropic female. Meira. Annoying, confusing, bitchy, snobby, bratty, calm, soothing, concerned, considerate, callous, cold, kind Meira.

Right now she was quiet, leading Nomak into the lab and walking over to the fridge. She hadn't said anything on the way there, just led him. Not until now, as they entered and the lights came on and made Nomak squint, did she finally let go of his hand. Her fingers - warmed by his feverish flesh - slipped and fell away, slowly, lingering for as long as possible or was that just his mind playing tricks on him?

It was all so confusing, and Nomak would have torn the stark, sterile room apart if not for the fact that despite her presence being confusing as hell and making him want to roar, she was soothing, comforting, calming. Her touch had been placating, and her demeanor still kept him calm, almost serene. His mind was a mess, all because of her, and all because of her he was still, silent.

He wanted to ask her. Wanted to ask her, demand answers. So many questions, so many questions racing around in his head, but he couldn't form the words, couldn't quite bring himself to ask her. He was unable to and unwilling to for the moment, and he remained silent, more peaceful with the situation than he should be.

Milky blue eyes surrounding by thick streaks of red and thin streaks of white watched Meira as she moved away from him to the fridge. They stayed on her as she opened the door, and not even the hunger in his body could make him tear his stare away from her to look at the blood filled bags she quickly gathered up in her hands. They never left her until she came back up to him, holding the bags out to him.

"Here," she finally spoke, her voice soft, calm. She didn't sound concerned or worried, but she didn't sound cold or distant. She was just calm. Understanding. She couldn't understand though, she was a princess. She was treated like one and wasn't one, and he was a prince yet hunted like a dog. But she didn't offend him this time, and she met his eyes, that look still there, the kind one without being pitying or worried.

Nomak nodded and finally looked down at the bags, taking them from her in silence. Perhaps right now, with so much blood loss that the pain was becoming close to crippling, he couldn't speak. But he didn't test that theory, he just set three of his four bags down and ripped open the fourth. The chilled liquid was soon moistening his mouth and throat, steadily gulped down.

Unable to hold it back, the reaper shuddered, eyes closed as his body eagerly absorbed the plasma, and soon the bag was empty and he was devouring the second one. He could feel the bladders - he thought they were bladders anyway, but he couldn't quite remember what they'd been called - in his back emerge, squeezing out the little bit of waste that wasn't absorbed by his burning, aching body. His wounds started to heal up faster, his bone soon losing their ache.

By the time he had finished off the fourth bag - taking no longer than two minutes - Nomak was almost completely healed. But the thoughts and feelings in his head stayed there, and grew worse as he finished his last bag and saw Meira was still standing in front of him, watching him.

The lycanthrope's expression was still calm, unreadable somewhat. She looked to be studying him, eyeing him with interest and fascination, but it was so guarded that Nomak couldn't really place it in those categories.

"See something you like, Princess?" He hadn't meant to speak. He certainly hadn't meant to speak so callously, so full of derision towards her and even himself. But it had just come out, some of his irritation and frustration finally breaking through that calm she induced in him somehow. He wanted to make her move away, wanted to get some reaction out of her, wanted to lash out at the source of his confusion.

Meira barely reacted though, and the reaction she did show made Nomak even more confused. She merely flinched, barely though, a human might not even notice it. Her eyes then dropped and she turned. She walked away from him, over to one of the cabinets. She pulled out first aid and wrote something down on a notepad, Nomak couldn't make out what. She then pulled out some of those packaged, disinfectant cloths. The damp ones, like moist towelets he'd glimpsed when sneaking near the nicer areas of civilization.

"Take your shirt of, please," she finally stated, her voice still soft, still calm. "I want to make sure everything gets cleaned, just in case. And I would like you to tell me what you're immune to, what hurts you," she added, turning and walking back over to him. Her eyes didn't meet his now though. "Karen and I are supposed to find out all your immunities."

"Why?" he questioned, his gravelly voice rougher than usual, suspicious, all the confusion now melting into the usual resentment and hatred. He didn't take of his shirt, he didn't even move, he just stared at her, pretty, little princess, digging for information.

Meira finally looked up at him, finally met his eyes again, and now the look in them was soft, apologetic. Always soft, always so soft, those clear, icy blue eyes that were almost the color of her weakness. "It's my job, Jared," she whispered, and Nomak jerked away as if burned or struck eyes wide before narrowing at the mention of his first name.

He hated being called Jared. They had called him Jared in the vampire lab, his father had called him Jared. He was used to Nomak - to the almost title-like way his last name, one given to him by his father, was used with him. It made him sound more like a target, yet it was impersonal, it kept him distant from all others, and the personal, gentle way she spoke to him, said his name, he hated it. He _hated_ it.

Just like he hated labs, just like he hated doctors and scientists, just like he hated being confused, just like he hated her silvery blue eyes staring at him, holding so many secrets. He hated meeting her gaze and seeing her open with her emotions, emotions he couldn't decipher or comprehend or understand. He hated her and the way she made him feel calm even when he should be roaring in frustration.

For her, part, Meira took his hardening gaze and agitated attitude in calm silence. She didn't show any of the usual annoyance, she didn't come off so high and mighty like before, and Nomak couldn't figure out, he didn't want to figure out why. She wasn't supposed to be apologetic and then become serenely stoic with him, she was supposed to react with anger and irritation and lash out at him, verbally or physically, he didn't care.

She wasn't supposed to come off like she cared. Nobody cared. Nobody. And Nomak didn't know or want to know how to react to care.

"I'm almost completely healed, Princess," he finally hissed. "As for any information about me, you probably have plenty enough blood samples from when I was drugged and chained in your laboratory to analyze. So go back to your science and your needles and that higher than thou attitude, Princess, because I don't want pity," he snarled, his skin slowly changing, darkening, hiding the veins and becoming a healthy tan. Soon there was nothing but a scar on his chin as the crimson streaks in his eyes returning to normal blood vessels and milky blue became clear, icy blue that were almost as silvery as Meira's.

Nomak was hardly even aware he had been shifting back into his more, normal, appearance, but he didn't care. Maybe it was so he could look normal in her eyes and be more easily hated and less easily pitied. Maybe so he didn't look like some mutation but an equal, even a superior. Maybe it was so he could look like a real prince in front of this bitch that he called princess.

Meira's jaw clenched and she met Nomak's now clear blue eyes, her own darkening to sapphire and then midnight, bleeding out, and she trembled slightly. Anger was finally visible, and he could smell it, and after several moments she slapped him, hard, the force of it making his head turn almost completely back and causing his jaw to ache for several minutes.

"I didn't pity you, Nomak," she growled, going back to his last name, the one that made him feel safe and distanced. "I never did. You're too much of a prick to be pitied," she continued, her voice softening to an angry whisper, but there was hurt in her voice.

Nomak eyed her with confusion, the hurt in her voice bringing all the conflict in his mind back to the forefront of his mind and stinging him more than her hand against his jaw. He couldn't understand why she was hurt. He didn't see her as that weak to be hurt by someone she didn't care about, and she didn't care about Nomak.

She didn't. She couldn't, she wouldn't, she shouldn't.

"Is there anymore blood in the fridge?" Nomak asked, his voice empty, blank, and his eyes became icy voids, no emotion evident, expression unreadable. He was shutting her out, shutting his emotions and his confusing, conflicting thoughts out, shutting everything out but the hunger, his body ache for nourishment. He would think about Meira and her incomprehensible presence later, when he was alone, when he was rested. Not now. He couldn't deal with it all now, not when she was so near, and part of him wanted to tear into that lovely throat of hers while another wanted to hold her and ask her what it was like to care.

Meira's eyes turned even colder and soon her own expression was blank, mirroring his. She closed her eyes for a moment, collecting herself, gathering her calm and soon her eyes opened and she answered him in a cool, detached voice. "Yes. Take as much as you like. I'll leave you alone now, since you obviously prefer things that way," she stated and strode past him, careful not to touch him even the slightest.

He stayed still, listening to her footsteps as she all but stormed out of the room and walked down the hall, not moving towards the fridge until he couldn't hear her anymore. But he still smelt her, still felt her, the sting of her hurt leaving a longer lasting mark than her handprint on his cheek.

After walking over to the fridge and collecting three bags of blood, Nomak glanced over at the notepad, reading what Meira had written down. She'd listed his healing abilities and the fact that he could handle old werewolves in a fight, and that he could change his appearance. He barely registered the information though, his mind for some reason more intrigued by her handwriting.

It was elegant, it wasn't even cursive. It was neat and bland, but readable. It reminded him of the room, of their indifferent attitudes towards each other just before she'd left him. It was distant, detached, and Nomak felt that sting grow worse, and he couldn't figure out why.

* * *

The nearly scalding hot water beat down on Vladimir's slowly but steadily healing body, steam thick as a morning fog almost. The floor of the shower stall was covering in bloodied water that slowly drained down, and Vladimir kept his head bowed and his gaze looked on the water as it disappeared, spirally into the drain. He didn't move, just let the water do all the washing for the moment. 

He could have beaten Nomak had Ulric given him the chance. But no, Nomak was needed for some reason. Vladimir was beginning to lose sight of that reason. He shouldn't, it was his job to know it and understand it and help execute it. Not try and kill the reaper because his anger and longing to claim Meira was trying to blind him.

Vladimir let out a soft growl as he ignored the longing of his bestial nature. He was started to let his mind be clouded too often by too much. Perhaps age was starting to get to him as if he were some pathetic mortal. After all, he was an old corpse by human standards. Barely an adult by Ulric's.

He was still hard. He didn't know why. Maybe he was giving into the wolf too often. Maybe he wasn't one with his inner beast enough or some such psycho babble shit. Maybe his bestial side had gone too long without a mate, and after the fight that was almost a fight to see who was worthier of Meira - though why Vladimir kept getting that feeling, he didn't fully understand yet, perhaps just blind jealousy - he and the wolf were just ready to give up.

The ache in his loins was steady, painful. His mind wandered to Valora, to their frantic clawing at each other, the way he'd almost given into her finally. He'd never seen her like that, so dominant, so urgent. She'd smelt and tasted good, felt good. She was a worthy female, she'd more than proven that over the years she'd been a member of his team. Seeing her in such a rabid, lustful state, almost completely nude beneath him, it hadn't helped, it'd made him yearn and lust.

But had it really been her he'd given into? Had he really wanted to just forget it all and take her for his, give himself to her, forget all intentions to claim Meira? Or had he secretly, in the back of his mind, thinking it was Meira, letting his actions be so violent against Valora because he wanted to be that way with Meira, wanted her submission, wanted her pleasure?

Vladimir snarled and looked up, eyes closing as he let the water pour down onto his face. He then turned and started washing himself, scrubbing off Valora's lingering scent and the reaper's as well. Not Meira's though. Never Meira's.

He could do everything in the world to make himself meet her standards, and he would never have her scent lingering on him, not from a fight, not from a mating, not from anything.

Valora might not want him anymore. He'd ruined his chance with her. But then, he had done it for her. He had known. H had known all along he hadn't been claiming Valora right there on the floor, not in his mind. He never would be able to remain loyal to Valora, not with Meira unmated, right there, dangling in front of him, and Valora didn't deserve that.

He was still hard, and he still yearned. He growled and then whined, slamming his soapy fists into the wall in front of him, the shower stall wall breaking where his fists hit. He panted and tried to force it away, tried to tell the beast he was to overcome it. He was better than that. He was better than Nomak, and he was better than Meira.

He was better than them. He was better than that animal he had let himself become in front of his Alphas. He was better than the lusting, rabid beast he had been with Valora, and he was better than this. He wouldn't let his vision get clouded again, not by his rabid anger and rabid lust. He was better than that.


	9. Passion Often Fuels, But Sometimes It's ...

Author's note: Wow, updated this story twice in the same month. I'm amazed at myself. But I should be updating this story more often now, as it's become my main focus. I'm hoping to get it finished this year, but it might take me a bit longer. The more I write, the longer the story gets for some reason. Anyway, hope you enjoy, sorry for the latest cliffy, and please review.

Disclaimer: I only own the werewolves. Everything else belongs to David Goyer, New Line, and Marvel. Though I would happily accept the rights to Nomak. Anyway, please don't sue me. I am very poor and not even in college yet. Have mercy on me.

* * *

CHAPTER EIGHT: PASSION OFTEN FUELS, BUT SOMETIMES IT'S JUST FOR FUN

Valora paced the length of her room, her arms stiff at her sides, fists clenched. Her eyes were pure black, And every so often her skin darkened as bones tried to shift and contort beneath her flesh. Canines elongated, nipping her own lip and giving her the sweet taste of liquid copper, her old habit needed desperately now. It was all she could do not to track down Meira and challenge her.

The only reason Valora didn't was because Meira wasn't a fighter. Oh, sure, when she lost her temper she would forget that herself, but she wasn't in a position that gave Valora any right to challenge her. Meira wasn't an official fighter and she claimed to have no interest in Vladimir.

Females were only allowed to compete to see who was the most worthy of a male was if they both desired him. And Valora, as a member of Vladimir's offensive security team, couldn't attack Meira who was a scientist, not a fighter. Not for this.

Of course, right now Valora wasn't so sure it was Meira's fault or her own, or something else altogether, but she wanted someone to blame other than herself. And she didn't just blame Meira - at the moment, she wanted to claim Vladimir for a kill as much as a mate. Possibly wanted the kill a bit more, for a while anyway. The wolf was holding a severe grudge, after all, and it made her want to lash at everyone.

_Bastard. He wanted it, damn it, he wanted it! If he hadn't there wouldn't have been something hard pressing against me, there wouldn't be claw and teeth marks healing in various places on his skin._

Valora growled as she fumed while pacing, her mind trying to find a way to get back at him for this. She'd lost rationality for the moment, but it would come back before she could really get herself in trouble. The wolf was vindictive, but not enough to make her suicidal. Actually getting back at Vladimir for what he'd done would get her in serious trouble, unless she fought him and beat him in a fair fight, earning his title of Beta. 

_Or the right to claim him._

Pausing as she started to turn, reaching one of the walls of her room, Valora unclenched her fists and placed her hands on her hips, chewing her bleeding lip a bit more. She absently licked up the blood, her eyes staring at the wall ahead of her, unseeing.

_I could possibly take him. Not in the state he's in now. I know him well enough to know that any fight he's in for the next month he'll be more ruthless than usual. But if I wait it out, train more, build up more strength, I might could. If I lose, I just stay on this team, nothing but a security guard who gets to go out on hunts only when I'm allowed. If I win, everything will be perfect._

Lips slowly forming a wolfish grin, Valora started up her pacing, but now her mind was plotting, planning. She told herself, her wolf, to be patient, that soon she could howl in victory if she just waited and trained herself enough. If she worked hard enough, everything would fall into place. She could earn herself a better position, more freedom, the mate she wanted.

Valora laughed softly to herself, amusement growing. She could even reject Vladimir, teach him a lesson, show him what he had shown her. But she wouldn't, she knew that deep down. She wanted Vladimir. He was a worthy male, and he had earned her respect and affection over the years she'd been in his team. She wanted him for more than just the primal lust, and those factors weren't going to go away any time soon.

_Just my luck to fall for someone hung up over what he can never have, thereby sticking me in the exact same position, Valora mused to herself as she finally started to calm, body sagging as the adrenaline from her anger and excitement left her drained but anxious._

The female werewolf sighed and walked over to her bed, plopping down ungracefully in an unladylike position. She absently smirked, closing her eyes. For some reason, she suddenly couldn't help but think how appalled her grandmother would be at her posture.

_What a time to think of that. I'm planning on getting back at my Beta and leader for rejecting me after tearing all my clothes off, my idea of payback is beating his ass into the ground and then claiming him, and I'm here thinking of how Grandmother would be furious and mortified by the way I'm lying here on my own bed._

Smirking wryly to herself, Valora sighed again, softer, her mind slowly calming down as well. She knew if she didn't get into a better position she'd doze off and wake up uncomfortable, but she didn't care. She was too comfortable at that moment, and she wanted to escape the harsh reality for a little bit.

* * *

Donovan stared down at Aysel, the sight familiar yet not. It was rare for him to be on top, not that he minded, but it made the sight of her beneath him, clinging and clawing and moaning his name, seem almost foreign. He was so used to her atop him, her head thrown back as she guided them both towards searing hot pleasure.

But he was thrilled she had submitted herself to him for once. He had been surprised when they had cleaned up and come back to their chambers only for her to slowly undress before him, head slightly bowed. He'd started to undress as well, but she'd placed her hands on his, her slender fingers gently squeezing his hand as she shook her head.

"Let me, please," she had whispered, her voice pleading for once, not demanding, not dominate. She had made it clear that this time was one of those times when she wanted him to be dominant, to hold her protect her, please her and let her please him and make it clear that she could always count on him, trust him, look to him for strength.

Normally he was the one who needed strength. Normally he was the one beaten in the sparring room, her form on top of his, her teeth and claws and eyes letting him know who was top dog of the relationship. Donovan didn't mind though. Donovan knew it was what Aysel needed, and in many ways he did too. But when she needed him to take the dominant role like most other males, he did, and tonight was no exception.

He had been gentle, almost gingerly touching her, pleasing her, wanting soft moans and breathless gasps, not lustful growls and frantic whines. He'd wanted to make love to her, not rut like they usually did. He didn't mind it rough or animalistic, they were part animal now after all. But it had been so long since they had made love properly, and he wanted it, and tonight it was about giving her what he wanted.

Donovan still remembered how loving she had been, undressing him, letting him know that tonight, for whatever reason, she wanted to make love too. He had seen it in her eyes, felt it in her touch, smelled it in her scent, tasted it in her kiss. He had held her to him tightly, tenderly when she was done. His mouth had been soft against hers when he'd claimed her lips, but claim them he did.

That's all he had been doing, claiming her, reaffirming that despite her dominance, she still belonged to him, that he still possessed the only thing he truly cared about now, the most precious thing he had almost lost. In a way he had lost part of her, but not all of her, and that was all that mattered.

She lived. And she belonged to him.

Letting out a roar, Donovan came as he cherished those thoughts, and he could feel her trembling beneath him as her own howl emerged. The sound was music to him, made him feel alive, worthy of her, made him feel that he had made up a little more for his sins against her, for not being there when she had needed him most.

Aysel clung to him, her hold tight, almost painful. More protective than possessive tonight, as if she had relived the memories and was afraid she would lose him, would lose herself. She buried her face in his neck as he nuzzled her and kissed her shoulder and whispered to her.

He promised her he wouldn't let her down again, that he was hers, only hers, that he would never allow them to be parted, that he would do anything for her, that he was whatever she wanted him to be, whenever she wanted him to be it. He whispered assurances that she would survive, that she was strong, that they were together, always.

Donovan held her as she slowly calmed from her fear and her pleasure, he stroked her hair as she fell asleep beneath him. He kissed her neck and reluctantly went to sleep as well, holding her.

* * *

Ulric smirked to himself, immensely enjoying the situation he had walked into. It was what he needed really, after the pissing match between Vladimir and Nomak. That had severely dampened his mood, but now, now he could have some fun and relieve the leftover stress. And it had been so long since he had been able to get into a rumble.

_Melantha will kill me when I get home though_, he thought to himself. His mate had tried to convince him to let her come along, but he had refused. It had not been the prettiest sight then, both Alphas' stubbornness making the short debate more vicious than it could have been had they used their sharp claws and even sharper canines against each other.

While normally Ulric would love for Melantha to come along, to watch her movements should fights arise, to see the way she carried herself on outings like this, he had wanted to be alone. His anger at his Beta and his "guest" had put him in a foul mood - perhaps it was more because his wolf was restless and unhappy with the lack of hunting Ulric had done as of late - and he did not want even his mate around as he cooled down.

Melantha had argued that he needed someone with him and that she wanted to help him cool off. She had added that she was restless and eager for something to do, for the chance to let her wolf out, to dig her teeth into her prey, any sort of prey. There had been almost hurt and a good amount of resentment in her eyes when he had refused her. But she had let him win in the end, only after Ulric stated he was making this decision not as the dominant mate, but as a stubborn male who wanted his way right now.

"More like a stubborn, willful child who should just be punished and not listened to, but very well. Go have your own fun and soothe your own temper," she had stated with a sigh. His Alpha female had then told him she would either be with Silvia or in their chambers upon his return and promptly walked away.

Now that he was in better spirits and his mind was clearer, he felt somewhat guilty for his selfishness. He could see Melantha had been right in her arguments, and Ulric internally reprimanded himself. Should she want to kill him - or torture him, which with her would be even worse - once he arrived home and found out he had met up with Blade and the remains of the Bloodpack, he would allow her to.

_In all our years together, I still wonder how I manage to keep her with me_, the Alpha male mused as he brought himself back to the present situation at hand. If he was to go home and face death - or worse, if she was in a particularly vindictive mood - he might as well enjoy this as much as possible.

Ulric smirked as he took each of the vampires in - Snowman, Reinhardt, Damaskinos' own daughter and usually the leader of the Bloodpack, Nyssa Damaskinos - the human familiar, and then he once again stared at the infamous Daywalker.

"My dear Nyssa, so good to see you're well. I had heard you were nearly killed during one of the reaper attacks," the Alpha male stated as he shifted his gaze over to her once more, smiling so that his canines were bared slightly. "I am glad to see you're recovering," he continued, his tone deceptively civil, casual, even conversational. He was a politician of sorts, after all.

The hybrid beside her turned to her, and behind the shades Ulric picked up the slightest hint of surprise at the familiarity between the vampire princess and the werewolf before them. The princess for her part kept her composure and ignored Blade's questioning look, her dark gaze directed on Ulric, baleful and wary.

"This is the Head Alpha of the werewolves," Nyssa stated, though only Blade and the human were unaware of who he was. The two male vampires in the rear stared at Ulric with recognition and caution. The human, who had appeared he was ready to piss his pants was all but cowering now. And Ulric could smell he had pissed his pants. Blade merely looked at Ulric with distaste and hatred. Nyssa's gaze never faltered, and never altered.

"What did you do with Whistler?" was the first thing that came out of Blade's mouth, and that earned him some slight respect. He had concern for his companion, that was honorable. Though his tone was rather amusing in a annoyingly arrogant way, but that was youth for you. His gaze never softened or wavered either, which earned him a bit more respect.

_Good thing for them that their presence lightened my mood. Had they made it worse, I'd be done with them already_, the old werewolf mused, and his silver eyes shimmered with his amusement, probably confusing and even worrying the group in front of him. Except for Blade, but that was to be expected.

"Don't worry, he's in good, familiar hands at my home," Ulric stated, earning an arched eyebrow behind the black shades. "An old friend of yours is taking care of him, perhaps you'll remember her - Karen Jenson," he informed the Daywalker.

The slight change in Blade's expression gave away that he did remember Karen, very well by the looks of it. The look on blade's face intrigued Ulric and he once again wondered over the events that caused Blade and Karen to part ways - but Karen had been unwilling to tell, and it would be off topic to ask the Daywalker.

However, Ulric was the only one who caught Blade's shift in facial expression, as the Alpha male noticed Nyssa had glanced at blade from the corner of her eye, curious of who this old acquaintance was. There was a distinct flicker of jealousy in the vampire princess' eyes when she saw the way Blade's reaction to the name.

Ulric nearly burst into laughter at that. It was just too classic and reminded him of a bad cliché.

"How do I know the both of them aren't dead?" Blade asked, either unaware or ignoring Nyssa's own reaction to this latest turn of events. His tone indicated he was used to being lied to by leaders and lowlifes. It also gave Ulric the impression the Daywalker wasn't sure if Ulric was both, or just a leader who might possibly be telling the truth.

Silvery gray irises turned paler, the color of pure silver, cold, emotionless, spreading out slightly, pupils narrowing and becoming more lupine. That was the only sign of Ulric's slight irritation, and even that was merely shown because he allowed it. Not just because he didn't feel like covering it up. He also wanted to see if the others would notice and freak out.

The human apparently did, because he looked like he might shit his already soiled pants.

"You don't really. I'm a complete stranger, and the leader of a race you probably deem as dangerous and deserving of death as the race of leeches you're being forced to work with," Ulric stated, and there were three hisses in reply. Ulric ignored them. "But why even bring Dr. Jenson up? I've no reason to want to toy with your emotions. I just want you and your group out of my way. Hunt down the rest of the reapers for me, you'll be doing not only yourselves but myself a favor. I won't have to send my own out to keep tabs on them or just wipe them out," Ulric explained with a shrug.

Reinhardt shifted slightly behind the Daywalker and the vampire princess, and Ulric briefly glanced over to the Bloodpack member, lupine eyes narrowing. Reinhardt froze, his hand the slightest bit closer to one of his handguns.

"Don't be that stupid in front of me," Ulric stated with aggravation. "I'm not in the mood to be insulted with idiocy."

The male vampire's jaw clenched and his hand lowered and went slack. There was spite in his eyes, visible despite his own shades, but it was quickly turned on the Asian vampire beside him, as Snowman held a slight smirk. The glare from Reinhardt made it disappear from Snowman's mouth, but it was still seen in his eyes.

_He was always the most respectable, and honorable amazingly enough, of the bunch. Snowman and Asad. It would seem the princess' favorite didn't make it out though._

Ulric didn't think on that long though, returning his attention to Blade, who appeared amused despite himself. No real surprise there, as Ulric knew even an idiot could predict animosity and ill will between Blade and Reinhardt.

"I am simply here to find out about a reaper that got away from my group. I would merely leave you to locating it yourselves, but I get the feeling that at least one of you wouldn't feel right letting me walk away from this without giving you information on Jared Nomak," Ulric remarked, earning dark glares, more likely directed at Nomak and not the werewolf himself. Smirking, he continued. "Don't worry about him. He's alive and well. The rest of the information I won't tell, so let's skip ahead to the obligatory fight scene, shall we?"

Nyssa appeared angry and slightly worried at Ulric's attitude, Snowman had his hands on his Katana, the human looked like he wanted to just run, shit himself, and piss himself again, Reinhardt seemed to be eager to try and tear Ulric's throat out, but Blade just smirked.

Apparently, he appreciated making quick work of the pleasantries and getting straight into the fun as well.

Ulric was tempted to go fetch his cane, but he didn't need it right now, and he could maneuver the fight back to where he had left it. He hadn't wanted to bring it along because the vampires and the Daywalker would pick up the scent of silver sooner than the scent of werewolf. Besides, he wanted to see how Blade fought against an unarmed opponent first.

"Well, if you insist," Blade quickly replied and attacked. He was fast, especially for a half vampire who was still mortal, but not fast enough. His attack was dodged, Ulric retreating back into a wider area space to give them more room and get them away from the others a bit. Blade recovered from his failed attack quickly and came at Ulric again, kicking at the werewolf's midsection.

Ulric twisted and dodged, his fist hitting Blade's knee with not even half his force. Probably not what Blade would want if he knew, but Ulric couldn't go all out on him yet. He wanted this to last a little while.

The vampires and the human stayed out of the fight for now, but all of the vampires seemed to be itching to join the fray. They hopefully weren't stupid enough to though. Actually, no, that wasn't hopeful, he wanted them to be that stupid.

Ulric hit Blade in the chest with his open palm, sending the Daywalker stumbling back, but he recovered in time to dodge a kick to his head. The werewolf alpha twisted as Blade retaliated with a hit to the side of his ribcage, but it was blocked and then Ulric aimed his fist for Blade's neck.

Blade avoided it, dodging to the side and kicking Ulric in the gut, but the lycanthrope backhanded Blade into the wall with a bit more force. The Daywalker shook his head, dazed only of a moment, and then he ducked and dodged a kick, coming up with on of his own, heading for Ulric's neck. His ankle was grabbed by Ulric and Blade was thrown into the ceiling.

There was snarling from both fighters, but it was softer with Ulric, more like a low, throaty growl that barely made its way up to the mouth and out. His eyes became more lupine as he stared at Blade, meeting the gaze that was visible through the shades even in the dim lighting. The slight change wasn't from anger though - Ulric was just starting to enjoy himself.

The Daywalker recovered swiftly again and the two were at each other's throats once more. Ulric slashed with claw tipped fingers at Blade's chest while Blade aimed a blow to Ulric's abdomen. Both attacks were dodged though Blade didn't dodge enough, and the scent of his blood met the air.

Ulric grinned and licked his claws as Blade glanced down at his shoulder, but ignored the slight wound and grabbed one of the silver stakes from his thigh. A soft snarl came out almost like a chuckle, and Ulric grabbed the wrist holding the stake, twisting, but Blade twisted his body with it, keeping Ulric from breaking his arm, and elbowed Ulric in the side of the neck.

The blow earned a growl and Ulric paused momentarily, the slight discomfort making him very annoyed. But his moment was all Blade needed and the Daywalker yanked his arm free, stabbing Ulric. He aimed for the heart but Ulric recovered and moved fast enough to avoid that hit, and the stake embedded in his left shoulder.

Blade let go of it and took a step back, as if he expected the stake to work. He stared at it and looked up at Ulric's face, confusion and annoyance registering when it did nothing to Ulric.

"I see Damaskinos didn't tell you about my immunity," Ulric stated, fully lupine eyes shimmering with more amusement than annoyance, though he had allowed his canines to lengthen. He reached up, yanking the stake out of his shoulder and looking at it with distaste before tossing it away.

Nyssa came up to Blade, her expression one of shame and embarrassment. "Sir Ulric is immune to silver, Blade. I thought my father had informed you," she whispered softly, apologetically, but all she received from Blade was an icy, disgusting glare.

"I'm getting sick of your father leaving out so many details. Like the truth," he snarled at her, and the vampire princess bowed her head, saying nothing more.

Ulric grinned. "Nothing to say in defense of your father, Nyssa? Glad to see you finally realize you can't say anything. It's always quite sad, watching you and your kind defend him blindly," he stated calmly, his tone condescending.

Reinhardt and Snowman came up to stand behind Nyssa, both glaring at Ulric. Neither said anything, there was nothing to say. And it was known that Reinhardt and Damaskinos weren't overly fond of each other anyway.

Nyssa kept her head down, though her fists were clenched. She appeared to be biting her lip to keep from saying anything, and her discomfort and frustration brought Ulric nothing but entertainment.

"It doesn't matter," Blade finally stated, looking back at Ulric. "I'll still kill you, or find a way to make you talk," he continued, charging at Ulric. He was promptly grabbed and slammed into the ground.

Ulric smirked and bared his fangs, growling softly. "No, you won't, Blade. I forgot to mention something else. I was holding back." With brutal force, Ulric picked Blade back up and hurled him down another tunnel, backhanding Nyssa when she tried to attack and distract him. Once he was certain the female vampire was either unconscious or too out of it to attack for another few minutes, Ulric strode towards Blade as the Daywalker struggled to get up.

Reinhardt wouldn't be a concern - he looked like he found it amusing. Snowman was seeing to Nyssa, more honor bound to make sure she was alright than to protect Blade.

Blade shakily stood and regained his senses, barely in time to block Ulric's next attack - claws coming straight at his face. He held up both arms, blocking Ulric's hand and then grabbing his wrist, but Ulric pulled his arm close and kneed Blade in the gut before slamming him into the curved wall of the tunnel.

With a snarl, Ulric hit Blade in the throat with his palm, causing the Daywalker to groan and cough, trying to breath. Ulric tried to hit Blade again, but he was able to shove the werewolf back, sagging slightly. Smirking, Ulric kicked, but Blade managed to recover in time and grab Ulric's leg, shoving it away.

The Daywalker pulled out his sword, snarling at Ulric as he charged. Ulric leapt up and gripped the ceiling with his claws, crawling a few feet and landing behind Blade before he could turn. As Blade started to, Ulric lashed out and backhanded Blade into the other wall

"I don't want to kill you, Blade, so stay there, and I'll just walk away," Ulric informed his opponent. He wasn't overly surprised when Blade shook his head, pushing himself away from the wall and moving into a fighting stance. "Well, just because I don't want to doesn't mean I won't," Ulric stated with a shrug and moved towards his determined enemy.

The scent of reaper met Ulric's nose though, and soon footsteps met his ears. Pausing, Ulric cocked his head slightly, moving to turn. He caught the blade of the Daywalker's sword when Blade struck at the distracted Alpha, holding it there and ignoring the blood starting to trickle from his hand. He turned and saw a tall, armored figure come into view, holding a huge, sledgehammer type weapon.

"Lighthammer?" the familiar, and somewhat dazed and confused, voice of Nyssa murmured, and Ulric sensed her approaching, but she was obviously focused more on Lighthammer. The others were close as well except for the human, who was slowly backing away, probably thinking of just running and heading back up to the surface.

_Well, after everything that's happened and now this intruder's presence, how could one blame the poor mortal? After all, it's obvious who and what this is._

Lighthammer was one of the Bloodpack members, Ulric was well aware of that. Lighthammer and his lover, Verlaine, were both part of the special team, though it was unclear if the two were lovers before joining or not. Obviously he had survived the tunnel battle.

In a sense.


	10. We Are So Unstable

Author's note: Well, I finally got this chapter done. It turned out very different than planned, but I like how it came out. I will warn everyone that only Nomak and Meira appear in this chapter, so it's all character development, no real action. I'll have what happens with Ulric, Blade and his group, and Lighthammer next chapter. Thanks to everyone who's been reviewing, the reviews have really helped me keep working on this! And to Qazs, Nomak didn't technically win the fight with Vladimir, Ulric broke it up. Nomak was winning, but Vladimir was about to change. I hope that answers your question. :D

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the werewolves and Faris. The rest belongs to other people who are richer than me. Please don't sue me.

****

CHAPTER NINE: WE ARE SO UNSTABLE

Meira slammed her door shut as she finally reached her rooms. She locked it, just in case her mother or Melantha wanted to drop by and walk right on in. With her mood at the moment, she didn't know how she'd react to company, no matter who it was.

Though perhaps she needed one of them. They were older and they were family. They had dealt with many males over the years, including mates, would be mates, etc. Maybe what she needed was their wisdom and comfort. Their words and experience, because right now she was so mixed up, furious, hurt, confused, and uncertain she thought she would howl.

The wolf had been riled up inside her, and she felt the longings for the hunt. But she squelched them and ignored them, refusing the wolf for the time being. She couldn't go out, even if all of her wanted to. Which she didn't, despite the yearning for the thrill of the chase and the satisfaction of the kill. The way blood would dribble from her muzzle, coating her teeth and jowls. The way the flesh was warm with life that hadn't fully faded.

Meira clenched her eyes shut, a lupine whimper escaping her. Eyes flooded black beneath the scrunched lids, and she could feel other parts of her starting to give in to the wolf's lust. But she held it off. She couldn't leave right now, and part of her was afraid.

All because of Nomak. That damn reaper had turned her mind upside down, despite her best efforts to calm him and offer him something besides animosity. To offer him the closest thing to friendship she could. But maybe he had seen behind her intentions, maybe he had seen the true motivations, the selfish ones.

Meira nearly did howl at that point. She wanted to hate Nomak and she couldn't blame him for his actions earlier. Maybe he had been acting like a prick, but she hadn't been a martyr either. She had tried to tell herself it wasn't completely selfish, her attempts at some form of a relationship with the reaper. And they hadn't been entirely selfish.

But they hadn't been completely pure either.

She had watched him fight Vladimir, take Vladimir, handle him. He had fought viciously, his style like a mixture of several different kinds, and all as vicious as he could deliver. She had watched him, transfixed, completely surprised at his ability to handle the Beta male. She had stared at him with respect, with admiration, with sympathy.

And she had realized who she wanted for mate. Meira wanted it, both parts of her did. The more human part of her, the wolf part of her, all of her. He was worthy, Vladimir despised him, there were so many others reasons. She felt slightly disgusted with herself for picking him for such vain reasons instead of the fact that she had finally found someone she loved, but she doubted she'd ever find that.

Nomak had been right when he'd called her a bitch not that long ago. She could be a bitch a lot of the time, especially towards males. She was more interested in her work than her social/love/sex life. She wasn't interested in finding someone who would take up her heart, mind, thoughts, time.

Sure, she had fancied one day she would fall in love with a worthy male, mate, and they would be eternal mates like Ulric and Melantha, but ultimately, she didn't want that. Not for a good long time. She barely spent time with her family and friends besides Karen, and the only reason she was with Karen so much was because they worked together.

The lupine nature in her had often tried to rebel, but she had worked so hard at suppressing it for so long she was able to keep it subdued and only let it out a few times when she had been pushed to her limit. She often got in trouble then, and her mother would tell her - over the phone if she wasn't visiting at that specific time - that she was coming dangerously closed to being forced in Vladimir's team so she could put her strength and temper to good use.

But it all made Nomak perfect. She wanted to hate him for making it so difficult though, and she wanted to hate herself for finding her "perfect" candidate in someone who didn't want anything to do with her.

Jared Nomak was the only one she found worthy and she could give herself to, was who Vladimir hated the most - as far as personal hate went, anyway. And Jared Nomak acted like he would rather bathe in vampire shit then be around her.

"Damn, I sure know how to pick them," Meira grumbled and curled up, eyes opening to reveal pale irises. She sighed, frustrated and drained. She was always left drained after her times with Nomak. Maybe it was because he made her think, left her confused and pondering her intentions and her life and her ways and wondering just what was behind all that anger in him.

Or maybe it was because she wanted to know why he seemed to hate her more every time they were around each other, while she found herself respecting him and concerned for him more every time they were around each other.

__

Listen to yourself. The only reason you want to mate with him is because he beat Vladimir and you'll still be free. Vladimir hates him, he's a good fighter, he would never be interested in emotional attachment, and you wouldn't have to submit more than once. He's convenient - you don't care, you're just grateful. Yeah, you might find yourself starting to find yourself fascinated by him, but he's a puzzle - your mind doesn't like being unable to solve things.

Meira sighed, slowly sitting up and hugging her legs to her chest. Resting her chin on her knees, she tried to calm her mind down. She wanted to be rational again, she wanted clarity, serenity, but all she got was confusion and complicated emotions that contradicted each other. The female lycanthrope felt like she was going to implode or explode or just scream or howl in frustration if she didn't get her composure back.

Even before her father's death she had been practical, rational, interested in science and sense and logic, not in hunting and wild and wolf. After her father's death, it was as if she was trying to shut the wolf out entirely, as if she wanted no part in that lifestyle her father had loved and her mother still loved.

But now, with her irrational decision to try and have Jared for her mate to make certain she could always keep her rationality and position as scientist, to keep the wolf subdued and buried, suffocated, she found she was only making it stronger. The wolf approved, the wolf wanted.

Even the turned werewolves were in better harmony with their wolves. All lycanthropes felt the dual nature in them, they were part humanoid, part lupine, but Meira, Meira knew she was having the most part reconciling the two, controlling the lupine side of her nature. Sure, she kept herself almost completely under control at all times so that the wolf only rebelled successfully a few times over long periods of times, but it was becoming more frequent and it was a constant battle.

The more she fought to subdue it, the more it felt like she was losing control.

Nomak wasn't making things any easier. His very presence, despite offering her a way to ensure she could remain what she wanted to be, dared her to let her animal out. His eyes and voice and smell and manner all called to the wolf, and his own words seemed to reach the wolf, as if he knew what she was doing. He spoke to her as if he was seeking the wolf out, as if he wanted to watch her change and see just how vicious and bestial she could be. As if he wanted to make her suffer by making her nothing but a rabid beast, just to prove she wasn't higher than him.

And what stung the most was deep down, Meira knew that even if she hadn't given in yet, she wasn't higher than him, she was lower. She'd proven that to herself now. She wasn't selfless or pious. She wasn't a princess any more than he was a prince.

Maybe they both possessed the right attitudes for royalty, but that didn't mean they were deserving of the nobility.

She wanted him though. The wolf did. Maybe this was what Vladimir felt, let himself be controlled by. This primal urge to give into an almost rabid lust. To challenge the one deemed worthy and see just how well he could prove himself against her. The wolf had seen him fight, and while Meira had mostly been enjoying the way he took Vladimir on as she conjured up her incredibly irrational plan to save herself from letting her wolf out, the wolf had slowly been clawing to her surface.

The wolf agreed with her, and now she was beginning to rethink her decision. It wasn't too late. She could just try and continue to fight Vladimir off. She might not even have to worry about it - Vladimir had orders to avoid her, and he might do so for a while now.

But what about later on? What about years from now? Would he still be following his command to leave her be? Would having mated with Jared even do a thing to change his intentions? If she only submitted once, Vladimir could still try to claim her, as mates were not necessarily binding, though it was an extreme rarity when a mating was challenged or not held in high regards.

There were so many trains of thought inside her head, and they each went on for miles, could be thought over again and again. Analyzed and reanalyzed, and she would still be stuck in this confused state where all she wanted was for everything to stop, to go away, leave her in oblivion and let her have some peace.

__

I can't stay locked away in my room forever. Maybe I could work on the blood samples from Nomak, get as much information from all the tests as possible. Or maybe Karen could use some help, maybe she's free now and can talk, Meira mused to herself, getting back off the bed. She let her hair down and brushed it quickly. Then she tied her hair back up as she headed for the door, deciding that talking to her friend and colleague or delving into research would help her feel better.

Melantha and her mother would never understand, and it wouldn't be comfortable discussing this with them, but perhaps talking with Karen would help. Or at least being able to do some work with part of Nomak that didn't make her confused emotionally.

****

OoooooooooooooooooooO

Milky blue eyes stared at the wall in front of the bed, stared at the patterns on the wallpaper and not taking anything in. They didn't see the silvery wallpaper, they didn't notice the varying shades of silver and pale blue, they didn't take in any of the details and shapes and lines. All they did was stare ahead, unfocused and clouded with confusion.

They had been stared at Meira's handwriting for so long that Nomak found himself seeing it even when he looked elsewhere. He stared at the wall but all he saw was the plain, blunt words Meira had written down on the notepad before storming out of the lab.

Nomak blinked, kept his eyes open for a moment, closed them again. Now he was seeing her, and this time he did take in details. He remembered her perfectly for some reason, but then again, he always had possessed an incredible memory. His father had believed he might have a photographic memory. And it hadn't failed him now.

He could see her pale blonde hair, and he suddenly realized he had always seen it held up, tied back. Usually it was tied back tight, though earlier it had been looser. Some of the strands in the front were cut shorter, and even when it was tight they would fall, sometimes in her silvery eyes. She often brushed them back behind her ears, and they would keep falling back in her face. Pale blonde strands, though not enough to be white or look bleached.

The reaper found himself wondering what her hair was like when it was fully down instead of held back as if it were a bother. It was probably wild and wavy, obviously long enough to be tied back though he wasn't sure how long that would make it, and it could even be longer. He almost wanted it to be long. He wasn't sure why, he was trying to figure out why he would be interested in her hair period. But he was, and he wanted it to be long and wild.

Maybe he wanted it that way in comparison to Nyssa's hair. Her hair was always held back even tighter, all one length, and it was all straight. He hadn't seen it wavy once, her hair long enough to touch her shoulders for the most part and no longer, always kept straight and neat. Sterile and submissive.

But Meira, despite the fact that she put herself in the sterile setting of labs that he hated, despite always putting her hair back as well, she wasn't sterile or submissive or straight or bland or blind. She was wild, she just couldn't see it. She needed long, wavy hair. She needed to let it down, needed to just stop being a contradiction and making him feel all sorts of confused.

Nomak sighed and closed his eyes, but it only gave him a clearer picture of Meira. Her pale blonde hair, loosely held back with strands falling in her eyes, her blue eyes so pale they were almost silver and clear as polished glass. Her pale, pale skin and almost regal carriage. The way her upper lip curved in a way he hadn't seen before, but it fascinated him now that he noticed it, and he almost wondered what it felt like.

What did she feel like? Soft, pleasantly warm. Strong yet she hid it with gentleness. At least that was what her grip on his hand had felt like. But what did the rest of her feel like? He could only remember soft skin and slender fingers that felt almost delicate despite the strength inside them. Still, he wondered what her hair felt like, the rest of her skin, her mouth. What did her normal mouth feel? Her normal tongue and teeth, and why did he even want to know?

There was a soft growl that reached his ears and he realized he was making the sound without intention. He quickly stopped himself and made himself calm down. Everything was confusion and frustrating, and he wished Meira was there because he wanted the calm.

__

Maybe, maybe if I close my eyes, it'll come back, he mused. When he closed his eyes, he saw her. Smelled her. Felt her presence, heard her breathing. He could recall everything about her as if she were standing right in front of him.

The reaper closed his eyes, trying to remember the calm she could instill in him despite all the conflicting wants and needs and thoughts inside his head. He didn't know how she could do it, but he wanted it back.

__

But will it come back? Maybe I ruined everything. Maybe I should have just kept silent, just done what she had wanted. Why can't I ever know what to do? I can fight, I can speak four different languages, none of them being the official language of this country strangely enough, I can do all sorts of things. Why can't I relate to people, read them properly, figure them out? Why can't I interact like normal people?

Nomak let out a loud growl and curled his fingers into fists. He didn't even register the sound of the paper in his right hand crumpling. It was all so confusing, and he just wanted peace in his head again.

It was like the time with the junkie. With that girl he'd nearly frightened to death, the girl he'd saved. He remembered the way she'd felt pressed to him, the scent of her fear, the sound of her blood humming a fast, little tune that matched the pounding tempo of her heart. They way she had looked at him after he'd fed on the vampire, the gratitude in her voice when she'd thanked him.

He hadn't even planned on saving her. He had caught the scent of vampire and realized its plan, followed it. He contemplated letting it kill the girl, then feeding on them both. More relief. But he hadn't thought of it in time, or he hadn't let it register, he wasn't sure which. He had acted on instinct, he had killed it before it could kill her, and he wasn't sure what confused him more - the fact that she had been genuinely grateful, or that he had intentionally saved her.

Not that he had even let himself in on the plan. Oh, no. He had just acted, his intentions known and yet not. It wasn't until he had heard the "Thank you," until he had proven to the girl he wasn't the monster she saw him as, it wasn't until he had watched her look at him and see the change, see the truth, see the potential, that he had realized what he had planned.

__

Was that the right way to act? Did I act right then? Did I do the right thing, did I prove myself better, did I prove I could be in a social environment? Why is it always so hard to figure these things out? Why can't I go back? I won't mind going back to being the hunted, to being the monster to track down only to find out his hunters are his prey. I won't mind, it's so much easier. I'll take the loneliness back now. I didn't even realize how simpler, better, things were then.

They didn't involve her. There was no new race, no complications, no wolves that looked like men and women. There were no hidden agendas, no annoying pricks always referring to me as "Prince," there were no labs, no scientists or doctors.

There was no Meira.

There was no annoying, soothing, calm, collected, wild, fiery, temperamental, level headed, stubborn, kind, warm, worried, condescending, infuriating, attractive, confusing, considerate, selfish, selfless Meira.

Nomak unclenched his fists, the crumpled up paper falling from his right hand. Opening his eyes, he stared down at it as it hit the floor, at the wrinkled words his princess had written, at the crinkly letters. He abruptly kicked the piece of paper away and stood. Tearing his clothes off, Nomak began to pace.

He wanted to understand what he was feeling, what she was feeling. He wanted to know what she had stared at him with - was it a hidden pity, was it genuine care, was it some kind of act? Was it selfless and concerned, was if selfish and hiding another agenda, another need for him to help fulfill like he knew would come from Ulric? Was it the emotion or the will or both behind the actions of the Alphas they had passed on their way to the lab?

Was that what he saw in her eyes? The warmth in theirs, the concern in their actions and the deeper motivations behind that worry? Was that this awful, confusing feeling he was started to grow aware of? Was he imagining things? Was he just trying to make himself feel better by making himself think that maybe there was something, some care, some, decent feeling, decent intention behind all of this?

It would never end, would it? All the confusion wasn't going to stop. He was blinding himself with pretty thoughts of what was referred to as love.

__

Getting ahead of yourself. Love? What love? A female shows something that might could be read as care or concern or compassion, and you start deluding yourself with random, unwarranted notions of love? There is no love here, no love in her for you, no love in you for her. There is no love. There isn't any compassion in her anymore either. You destroyed that. You didn't want it, you don't need it. It's nothing but trouble, but a bother, an obstacle in your path.

Compassion didn't even come at childhood. That's all this is. That childish longing for compassion, for care, for love. You're just going back to that little boy who wanted his father's approval and his mother's love. You never got both, and now you seek comfort and replacements when the slightest chance of either arises. But you're beyond that now. Don't let it get in the way.

Nomak walked over to the bed and leaned on the foot of it. That was all it was - that yearning for love and acceptance and approval and compassion he had possessed for as long as he could remember. But it was time to put that in the past.

He was confused and he was seething. He wasn't loved, and he wasn't loving. He didn't love, didn't feel it, experience it, didn't know it.

All he knew was that driving hate in his gut that helped him ignore all the pain and heat and ache and everything. The hate that helped him keep his focus. Helped him strive for his ultimate goal.

And that goal didn't involve Meira. That goal only involved Nomak and his family and death.

__

…so why do I keep looking at her handwriting on the floor?

****

OoooooooooooooooooO

About halfway to the area Ulric had placed the human "guest" in, Meira had remembered she needed to go get the notepad she'd left in the lab with Jared. With a groan and a good smack to her forehead, Meira turned, and briskly strode down the corridors that would take her to the right lab. She shouldn't have been so sloppy as to leave it, but she hadn't been thinking clearly at that moment.

It was still a stupid thing to do.

Nomak's scent was still strong as she neared the lab, and she could also pick up the scent of blood. The latter probably came from the few droplets Nomak couldn't get out of the bags. The former, well it hadn't been all _that _long since she'd left him there. Plus, she had no idea how long he had remained in the lab after her, departure.

Still, she wasn't all that happy to be picking up his scent again. She would have preferred not to have that familiar, strange smell filling her nostrils and bringing back all the conflict and the thoughts that proved Meira was close to cracking. Meira didn't want to think about the fact that she was getting very close to losing her sanity.

The female lycanthrope let out a sigh as she entered the lab, the scent of blood making her mouth water and she nearly let out a growl. Meira gripped the edge of the counter the notepad was on, clenching her eyes as they darkened. A shudder visibly coursed through her, and she panted softly for several long moments.

__

Damn it, I can't go hunting! I already fed today, and I don't need to again for a while! Calm down and let me get my paper, she angrily told her lupine self. She didn't like being forced to listen to the insistent, demanding howls in her head, so when they subsided she couldn't hold back a sigh of relief.

Her relief was short lived though, as the moment her eyes opened, icy blue once more, she noticed something was wrong. Her note was missing - the top page on the pad was completely blank, but she could make out the indentations on it from what she had written. That meant that she wasn't in the wrong lab - though the scent of blood and Nomak confirmed that anyway. It did mean, however, that someone had taken the paper.

And only two people had been in this room in the last half hour.

Meira checked the pockets of her slacks, finding nothing. That was what she had feared. She hadn't taken the page and forgotten her actions. Nomak had taken it. That meant Nomak had it. And Meira didn't know how he'd reacted to seeing what she'd written down, or why he had taken it. All she knew was she did not like the prospect of having to find him and deal with him again so soon.

__

Calm down. Think. Sniff the air. Yes, take a deep whiff, and, no. Shit. Nobody else was here. That means he has it. Oh, hell, why did this have to happen?

Grumbling internally, Meira took a deep breath. Closing her eyes, she exhaled slowly, made sure her hair was smooth and tied tight, then smoothed out her clothes. It was as if she was afraid to let the reaper carrier looking anything less than perfect and collected.

"This is going to be oh so much fun," Meira stated sardonically. She briskly strode out of the lab and made herself turn in the direction that would take her to Nomak's quarters. She didn't care if anyone heard her little statement, she was going to need to get out all the sarcasm from her system as possible before she reached Nomak.

Meira kept reaching up to make sure her hair was still tied back smoothly and tight. She was glad she wasn't human at the moment, or she would have given herself a killer migraine. Her fingers tugged at her shirt, pulling it so the wrinkles were stretched out and unnoticeable, but every time she let go, her shirt would wrinkle up again. She continued this, her own form of nervous fidgeting she supposed.

__

Why the hell am I nervous? No reason to be nervous, no reason at all. You can handle him. Even though you're at odds with yourself over whether you hate him or want to mate with him. And there's also the fact that he seems to hate you, no matter how you act. No matter what you do, he always reacts like a wounded animal, lashing out blindly but still lethally.

Of course, he might have seen through you, seen the growing motivations in your attempt at kindness. Or perhaps you should just accept the fact that no matter how selfish or selfless you are, if you're a doctor or a scientist around him, he isn't going to appreciate you.

Nearly growling in frustration, Meira told herself to clam down and stop trying to analyze him so much. It was difficult, Meira was the kind of person to analyze anything and everything, but she couldn't figure Jared out. Trying to analyze him only made him more of a puzzle.

__

Or maybe he just holds a grudge over the fact that I punched him. Ugh. I said stop!

There was a barely audible growl that emerged from Meira as she turned another corner. She was beginning to think maybe Nomak was right to hate her, because she was starting to get outdone with herself as well!

__

Almost there, so get a grip on yourself, Meira. Don't give him something to taunt you with, because you already know he will taunt you.

Breathing in deeply, Meira nodded to herself. She finally reached Nomak's door and could hear him moving around. Pacing, it sounded like. Her brow furrowed as she wondered what he would be pacing about, but she told herself it wasn't her business. And she didn't care. All she was here to do was get her paper from Jared and go find Karen. Quickly.

There was the rustling sound of cloth, and Nomak's scent and footsteps were approaching before Meira could even knock. She had her hand raised when she heard him nearing and dropped her hand, biting back a sigh. She should have known Nomak would be well aware of her presence and not give her any extra moments to ready herself.

"What do you want?" came the familiar, raspy voice of the reaper. The question was out of his mouth before he had the door even halfway open, and Meira started to reply when she saw Nomak appeared human again, save the perfect scar down his chin and the top of his throat. He stared at her with icy blue eyes, his strangely tan skin exposed all the way to his hips.

__

Dear Moon, he was putting his pants on, Meira realized, recalling the rustling sound before his approach to the door. She couldn't help but glance down, curious more than anything else, and her rational mind took note of the lack of scars. She was amazed at his healing capabilities, while the howling in her head indicated her wolf was amazed at his other, assets. _Horny teenager_, she told the wolf, told herself. She was above that, for crying out loud.

It wasn't that she had never seen a man, after all, werewolves weren't known for their modesty. There had been plenty of times she'd seen several members of her mother's pack nude after the change, and she had even seen Vladimir. Not that she liked to remember that fact. She had thankfully almost completely erased that memory from her mind.

But her wolf liked Jared for some strange reason. Her lupine nature saw it so simply, while Meira's more human side was at war over why she had even considered him for mate. Was it because she wanted to listen to the wolf's howls, was it because she wanted to save her rational mind, was it because she wanted to just find out what it felt like, was it because she wanted to take a mate that would make the sting even more painful for Vladimir?

She shook her head and nearly smacked herself. She had been staring, and Nomak's arched eyebrow and confused look told her he was well aware.

"I need the note," Meira whispered softly, and nearly flinched at how meek she sounded. But she was having a hard time not allowing her internal struggle to reach the surface. She wondered if it had been like that for her mother and father, Ulric and Melantha, any of them. She wondered if she had become just as low and pathetic as Vladimir.

"What note?" Jared asked in response, giving her a long, hard stare. His gaze was intense, giving her the impression he was studying her at the same time that he was trying to make her crack. He didn't move, just watched her, one hand gripping the inside doorknob, the other placed on his hip.

Meira sighed, and despite herself she snapped. It was bad enough that she was having difficulties with herself, why couldn't he just make things easier for her, just this once?

"Look, Jared, I know you have it. You're the only other person to have been in that room since I left, and the note was gone when I went back," she stated, her voice louder than it needed to be and she sounded exasperated. She watched Jared, and she got the sinking feeling that her tone had cost her that note.

The reaper's expression hardened, and Meira swore he visibly put up a wall to distance himself from her. Abruptly he reached out, grabbing Meira by the neck. He squeezed for a moment, then shook his head and let go, retreating into his room. He looked down and shuddered, breathing in deeply several times. Those icy blue eyes, clear and surrounded by almost pure white, closed and clenched, his face scowling.

"Don't call me that. Why do you call me that?" he questioned, and Meira could do nothing but blink several times as he struggled to control himself just like she was trying to do more subtly. He didn't look at her for a moment, calming himself down visibly as he waited for her answer, but she was too perplexed to give him one.

Finally, Nomak opened his eyes and looked up weakly, his skin loosing its healthy tan, the scar becoming a fresh wound, blood coming to the surface as his veins were exposed under thin skin of a sickly pallor. His lean, muscular body almost trembled it seemed, weak from the struggle with his temper.

"Why do you call me Jared?" he asked, his voice even raspier, and he sounded just as drained as he looked. But there was something in his tone that struck Meira, struck her harder than his almost defeated state, than the way he looked at her like a broken, confused pet or child. His state was reflected in his voice, and he sounded as if he was a child asking why he had been hit when he hadn't deserved it. His tone was weak and hurt and Meira's mind didn't have a chance to think about why she had called him Jared and not even realized it.

She was too busy realizing that it seemed to actually be painful for Nomak to be treated like an equal or a person. And she couldn't figure out why. It had always seemed to her that was what he wanted. She had seen his hatred towards her refusal to act like a werewolf in front of him, she remembered his bitter words about her high and mighty act. So why was it so painful for him to be called by his first name, like plenty of other people?

Nomak had reacted badly when she had called him Jared in the lab earlier. That had set him off worse than anything else, Meira realized that as she thought back. He hadn't even reacted as badly when Vladimir had called him prince.

Why was his first name so hurtful?

Meira didn't have much time to think this over before Nomak sighed. She watched him shake his head like a signal that he was giving in against his will, and then he turned from the door. She stood there as he walked back into his room where she couldn't see him. Hesitantly, and against her better judgment, she stepped inside, following him. She came around the corner of the mini hall at the entrance, finding him standing at the foot of the bed, facing it.

He held a crumpled piece of paper in his hands, his head bowed as he stared at it. Both hands held the paper, keeping it opened up enough for him to read the words, and Meira supposed this was her needed piece of paper that held his attention. The reaper didn't even acknowledge her, if he was even aware of her, when she cleared her throat. He just kept staring at it, as if he would get something he needed from it if he looked hard enough at it.

"I don't know why I took it," he whispered, his voice soft, barely even a whisper. "I just noticed it before I left, and I couldn't stop staring at it. So I took it." Nomak went silent for several moments after that, and Meira wondered if he would ever look up from it. "I didn't mean to crumple it," he added, finally tearing his gaze from the note. He met her eyes, his whole demeanor now more like a child afraid he had committed some terrible act without meaning to, and everything would be ruined.

Meira was shaken by the change in him, and she didn't know what to do, what to say. She was seeing a whole other side of Nomak, and it made her view of his puzzle zoom out to realize it was even bigger and the pieces were smaller, harder to match up. She couldn't figure him out, because every time they were together, he only became more complex than before.

"It's alright," the werewolf finally told him, her voice calmer and more confident than she felt. She tried to sound placating, reassuring. This sudden change was unexpected and unwelcome. Meira didn't want to stare at Nomak and see a child and a monster and a man all in one body, all fighting for dominance and control and all of them lost.

Jared nodded and handed the note over to her with his left hand, head bowed slightly. "I got angry. I didn't even remember I was holding it," he explained. His voice was distant now. He sounded like he didn't want to be there, that he was trying to sink into himself and find solace there.

"Don't worry. No harm done," Meira told him, assured him. She reached over and her fingers moved to take the paper from him. She accidentally - or was it intentional? - touched Nomak's finger's lightly, and she was reminded of just how hot his skin was. She gripped the paper and took it.

Nomak let out a sharp breath as their fingers brushed, but his hand dropped lifelessly to his side once the paper was out of his hand. He looked up, met her gaze. Cocked his head, studied her expression. Abruptly, he took a step closer, and she took a step back, a reflex, not an honest reaction. His eyes slowly changed, and it was obvious it had the same effect anyway.

"Get out," he whispered darkly, the words coming out more like a hiss than a coherent order. He scowled at her, and his body trembled slightly.

Meira stood still for a moment, meeting his hardened gaze. She didn't say a word, and he just stared at her. She had the feeling he was trying to stare her down, make her back off, intimidate her into leaving him. She had given him the impression he could do that, and that other side of him wasn't strong enough to fight the instinctive, wounded animal attitude he always got when he was hurt.

"No."

It took several moments and Nomak's slightly surprised, fairly impressed, and extremely angered expression for Meira to realize she had spoken, and that she had stated that one, little word. It was too late to take it back, and Meira didn't want to.

"Jared, Nomak," Meira began, correcting herself when she realized she had said his first name by mistake, "this is going to have to stop. Ulric hasn't told you everything he's planning, he hasn't had the chance. But he needs you to work with me, and Karen," she explained, taking a step forward. "We can't keep doing this. It isn't going to get us anywhere. Every time it looks like we might be able to get along, we always end up biting each other's head off, and I'm sick of it."

"I'm sick of you! I'm sick of all of this, of being nothing but a puppet, but an experiment, something to study and poke and prod and test on and use as a lab rat when I should be out in the open with my family, as the heir to my father, as his only son alive, not hidden away like some terrible secret only to be taken in by another race who doesn't care about me, just about what I can do!"

Nomak panted slightly, his eyes boring holes in her own, his whole body shaking visibly. His fists had clenched, nails digging in and cutting his skin so that sticky, amber blood could drip down his fingers and the scent could fill their nostrils.

The enraged outburst had surprised Meira, and she stared at Nomak as some of the pieces fell into place, as she finally formed a section of the puzzle. She swallowed, her expression shifting from surprised to comprehension, and she nodded.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, the words genuine and sincere. It wasn't so hard for her to swallow her pride this time.

Nomak scoffed though, but it was hesitant, uncertain. A weak defense to hide his surprise. He wouldn't let go of it though, he couldn't it seemed. He didn't know how, perhaps, maybe he didn't know how to do a lot of things.

"You're sorry? Well, good for you. I'm touched by your sympathy, really. But it isn't enough for me to overcome the fact that I don't like you," he snarled, then backed off. He stepped away from her, turning and panting heavily, trying to calm himself down. "Now could you please get out?" he asked weakly, and Meira nodded even though he couldn't see it.

The wolf told her no though. Told her to stay, told her to go to him, to lick the wounds in his hands and take him. Told her to walk over and touch him and find out what he felt like everywhere. The wolf howled and clawed at her from the inside. The scent in the air didn't help her, either.

"I respect you, Jared," Meira whispered softly, and he stiffened, turned towards her. She met his confused gaze and nodded. "I respect you, more than I respect almost any other besides Ulric and Melantha and my mother. I know that you don't hate me or dislike me, because if you did, you wouldn't have taken this note," she told him, lifting the hand that held the piece of paper. "I'll leave you. I'll come back soon with some blood though, but I'll leave you be for now."

Nomak watched her with a steady, blank expression. He nodded and watched her as she left, not moving, just watching her. His eyes stayed on her until she left and closed the door, she knew it, she could feel them. Just watching her.

****

OoooooooooooooooooooooO

A/N 2: I nearly forgot - in my user info I have a link to the site for this fic. It's not yet finished, but hopefully I'll have the time/will to finish it soon. It does have most every OC cast, with a picture of the actor basis and wolf form up. But just in case you were wondering, I figured I would go ahead and put the cast list in this chapter, to give a better idea of what the characters look like to me.

Ulric - Viggo Mortensen

Melantha - Patricia Velasquez

Meira - Jenny Mollen

Vladimir - Marton Csokas

Silvia - Michelle Pfeiffer

Valora - Mariska Hargitay

Aysel - Milla Jovovich

Donovan - Thomas Jane

Richard - James Purefoy

Faris - Scott McElroy


	11. Developments

Author's note: And finally, here is chapter ten! I'm sorry for the long wait with this one, but it was slow coming at first, and then I just suddenly brainstormed and wrote the last six pages of it in one day. Anyway, hopefully chapter eleven won't take so long, but since I'll be going on vacation the first two weeks of August, the chapter may get delayed. I hope you enjoy this chapter though, and a huge thank you to everyone who reviewed, the reviews are really wonderful and definitely help motivate me more. Please keep them coming. : )

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except the werewolves and Faris.

* * *

CHAPTER TEN: DEVELOPMENTS

Memories were mingled and distant in Lighthammer's mind, but they were there. Many things had been lost when his vampirism had become something else, something wrong. Something powerful. When he had become a reaper, much of who had once been left his conscious, but there were some things he did remember.

Like the Bloodpack. Like Verlaine.

During the confusion of the other reapers, the frightened ones, Lighthammer had been separated from Snowman, and he hadn't been able to find Verlaine in time. The reapers had left Lighthammer alone as his body finished the slow and painful transformation. They had sensed that he was one of them, and wouldn't make a good meal.

He vaguely remembered hoping that he never would be one of them, hoping that the infection was too slight, that the pain he had hid meant he was fighting the mutation off, not slowly undergoing it, that even though he hid his mutation to save himself from death, ultimately he would not be changed. He had almost instantly forgotten the reasons he had been afraid of the change.

It puzzled him now, it had puzzled him then, moments after he had become a reaper. It had puzzled him when Verlaine had tried to fight him off, tried to refuse the bite he had wanted to give her. It had puzzled him when she whimpered as if dying after he had called her name and pulled her to him.

But it had hurt when she had yanked from his loose grip to run to sunlight. It had hurt to watch her willing burn in front of him instead of accept the gift he had longed to give her.

The pain of the hunger hurt, but the power the mutation brought was worth the price. How could she have not seen that? They would have been immune to everything but the sun, they would have had a better chance at living longer than even that ancient corpse they had pledged themselves to. They would have been able to take out the Daywalker without hardly any effort, what they had been sworn to do.

Yet she had killed herself. Right in front of him. She had shown fear and disgust and hurt, and Lighthammer had only wanted to give her this gift. It hurt and burned, but nothing was free. How could she not have seen that?

It still puzzled him. It still hurt him. But he wouldn't let that get in the way of his destiny. And his destiny was to use this gift to its fullest advantage.

Lighthammer was thankful for the chance to show not only the remaining members of his old team as well as the contemptuous Daywalker, but Sir Ulric, the highest ranking Alpha werewolf, as well. He could not have asked for a better audience to view his new powers. His timing had been perfect, and he hadn't even planned for Sir Ulric to be the one to come. He had imagined Vladimir would come back to solve the mystery of the reaper that got away. But no, the head Alpha had walked into the trap himself, practically handing himself over on a silver platter.

Nyssa, was that her name? He knew the faces, but some of the details escaped him. Yes though, Nyssa was her name, he was sure of it. Nyssa was approaching him slowly. She appeared confused, and Lighthammer saw flickers of other emotions cross her face, but it was difficult to say what they were.

Emotions and their names were so trivial to him now. Emotions other than pride, triumph, the rush of victory, hatred, all others were insignificant now. If Verlaine had survived, perhaps love would have a place among Lighthammer's remaining emotions, but no, she had died, she had died willing and to escape him. There was no such thing as love in his mind now.

After pondering over her expressions though, Lighthammer remembered what he was seeing in her face; confusion, shock, relief, thankfulness, and then as she came closer, all turned to fear and caution. His milky irises met Nyssa's dark pair, and the reaper grinned. But his grin wasn't like a human's or a vampire's or a werewolf's. His grin was a frightening sight. His lower jaw split open and both sides went back, almost to his ears, and the top lip curved upward as best it could.

"Oh my," Nyssa started to say, but he soon silenced and grabbed her gun. The bald one, Reinhardt, yes, Reinhardt, followed her example, and the Asian, Snowman, the one Lighthammer had been with before the reapers had gone wild, unsheathed his sword. The human merely cowered, and he reeked of urine now.

Lighthammer ignored them though. He turned from them, mouth closing up once more as his attention fixated on The Daywalker and the Head Alpha. They were his primary targets, and they had already gotten each other a little breathless. Well, Ulric was breathing the slightest bit heavier than usual, and Blade looked like he couldn't breath at all. The Daywalker was, of course, trying to hide that fact.

The sound of gunfire took Lighthammer's attention away from his two targets, and he felt bullets hit his chest. He didn't wince or grimace, he snarled in annoyance. He was above such trivial pain now. What would sting for him when he was a vampire didn't even pinch now.

Reinhardt had shot him, and Nyssa had followed, instinct telling her to join the gunfire from her own party, though if she had thought it through, surely a smart vampire like he remembered her being could realize it was foolish. But they continued, ignoring the fact that Lighthammer was annoyed at them, until he dropped his hammer and charged up and backhanded Nyssa before she could back away in time.

He heard a snarl from the Daywalker, and turned in time to avoid a weak slash from Blade. The half vampire had moved away from Ulric and towards Lighthammer, seeing Lighthammer as the great threat. Good. He was.

As for the werewolf himself, he stood at the sidelines, while all the vampires suddenly came at him, along with the weakened Daywalker. Lighthammer growled slightly in annoyance while fending off the blows, aware of the pain in his body growing worse, heating up more. It was alerting him he needed to feed, and he needed to feed soon.

Shoving his attackers away, Lighthammer reached out and snatched up Blade's human, yanking him close, and he heard Scud crying out for help. Lighthammer and the others had never been fond of Scud - though they preferred him to Blade's other human, but Lighthammer could not remember his name, or what he looked like for that matter. And now, hearing the human shout like a little girl child who stank of his own piss, Lighthammer realized he was disgusted with the human.

Before Scud could be helped though, Lighthammer's mouth had opened and was against his neck. He felt arms struggling to pull him off, weapons smashing and stabbing at him, but he merely backhanded them off. The ex-Bloodpack member lifted his head briefly to roar at his ex-comrades, and then finished feeding.

They came at him again before he was done, which was quite irritating, but he ignored them, almost done. And once he was, he felt much better, his head much clearer. He could even remember what Whistler looked like. Though he did not consider that a good thing.

Finally, Ulric joined the vampires and the Daywalker, and that was when Lighthammer was reminded what pain that didn't come from his mutation felt like. The Alpha hit him hard in the chest, causing his armor to crack and break his skin. And then there was a kick to the side, and soon the others weren't even trying, letting the lycanthrope deal the damage out.

Lighthammer fended off most of Ulric's blows, but every hit the lycanthrope got in did damage. Damage that would heal, but still damage. Lighthammer punched Ulric's jaw, blocked a blow to his throat, then shrieked when Ulric's fist connected with Lighthammer's throat. That blow had hurt the worst, hitting one of Lighthammer's most sensitive spots.

Knowing he couldn't take the werewolf in hand to hand combat, Lighthammer tried to punch Ulric in the shoulder. That blow was blocked, but Lighthammer managed to slam his palm into Ulric's gut, sending him back a couple of feet. That was all Lighthammer needed to go grab up his discarded weapon, wounds healing swiftly, and then he was ready to fight once more.

Ulric regarded Lighthammer warily, and Lighthammer saw that Ulric respected Lighthammer and his weapon as a threat. Good. Because Lighthammer was about to prove that he wasn't just a threat, he was going to be Ulric's death.

Not waiting for Ulric to make a move, Lighthammer charged, swinging his hammer. Ulric dodged and kicked Lighthammer's side, then slashed his ribs. Lighthammer elbowed Ulric in the chest, then swung his hammer again. Ulric dodged successfully once more, got another kick in, and then the hammer finally collided with the Alpha's chest. Lighthammer grinned in the normal fashion as Ulric was sent into one of the tunnels' walls, crashing through and landing in a pile of rubble.

But before Lighthammer could get his kill in, the Daywalker and his ex-comrades were attacking him again. Lighthammer snarled with annoyance and fought back viciously, strengthened by his feeding session and the surge of adrenaline from his victorious - or about to be, once he dealt with these irritations - scuffle with Ulric.

The fight was in Lighthammer's favor. Despite the hot pain, despite the larger numbers, the wounds Ulric had inflicted, it was in his favor. His wounds were healing. His strength outmatched theirs. His pain was something he was growing accustomed to. He had just fed, and it renewed him and lessened the pain. The power flowing through his veins was hot as one imagined Hell must be, but it only fueled him.

Lighthammer slammed his hammer into Blade's chest, the point of it entering the Daywalker's shoulder. Even as Lighthammer grinned morbidly at the sound of metal tearing flesh, Snowman stabbed him in the side, the end of his katana protruding from Lighthammer's other side. He backhanded Snowman into one of the tunnel walls. Lighthammer then yanked the sword out while Nyssa fought to get the hammer off Blade, and Reinhardt slashed at Lighthammer's chest.

With a battle cry that came out part shriek, part roar, Lighthammer yanked his hammer out of Blade's chest and around, sending Nyssa and Reinhardt crashing into another tunnel altogether, while Blade and Snowman struggled to merely stand.

Seeing his advantage, Lighthammer turned from the weaklings to face Ulric and finally claim his kill. But his kill was nowhere to be seen. The pile of rubble Ulric had been a part of moments ago was made up only of the wall Lighthammer had sent the Alpha through. There wasn't a sign of the werewolf. Except his scent. Lighthammer glanced back only briefly at those who had been his comrades, then followed Ulric's scent.

He could kill the pathetic vampires and even more pathetic Daywalker later. For now he was intent on finding Ulric before it was too late.

* * *

Walking towards the lab where the human "guest" had been placed, Meira could smell Karen and the human male, their voices reaching her eyes. She gently knocked on the door before she entered, just to alert them so there wouldn't be any sudden surprises. She found Karen standing and the human, Abraham Whistler if Meira remembered correctly, sitting, and it was obvious Karen was taking some blood samples.

Karen turned and smiled in greeting to Meira, before picking up that something was off. Her realization was obvious but brief, and though she seemed concern still, only Meira would notice. "Hey, Meira. Whistler was just giving a few more blood samples, so I could check and see if there were any side effects to his vampirism or anything we might could use," Karen informed the female werewolf, who nodded, going into scientist mode.

Whistler, for his part, stayed quiet but the look in his eyes was cautious, wary. He didn't trust Meira, and she didn't blame him. Right now, she had a whole new respect and higher regard for trust, and realized just how precious it really was. And how hard it was for most people to give.

Considering how vicious the world was, that was probably a good thing.

"Have you gone over Nomak's blood samples yet?" Meira asked, walking over to help her friend out with organizing the samples Whistler had given. And to just have a friend nearby, because after all that had happened, she needed that. She still wasn't sure just what all had happened, because a lot had happened. To be frank, a lot was an understatement.

Karen must have noticed Meira's need for the friendly companionship, and might have picked up the almost gentle tone when Meira said the name Nomak. Her eyes went to Meira, and she gave her a smile, kind and warm. "I've done some work, but we need more. Once the blood is out of his system, it, well it goes bad I guess you would say. Like the blood in the bitten reapers," Karen explained.

"You guys are doing this stuff to him too?" Whistler asked out of the blue, and Meira looked at him, noting the way he didn't speak of Nomak with hatred. Maybe Karen had explained to him what they knew of the reaper. Maybe he had felt sympathy or pity for Jared.

Meira smiled inwardly, sadly. Nomak wouldn't have liked the tone Whistler used.

Karen answered while Meira tried to control her thoughts and keep them from staying on Nomak for too long. "We need to find out all that we can about him, his weaknesses, strengths, immunities, and if there's a way to reverse what was done to him," she informed the human male, and Meira nodded, though more in confirmation to herself of her earlier assumption concerning what all Whistler had been told.

Whistler nodded, but didn't speak again. He cast a glance at Meira, and the female werewolf met his gaze, but she quickly dropped it. The old man had been more observant and smarter than she'd given him credit for, because he had seemed to know there was something going on with her and the situation involving Nomak. Or maybe that was just her mind playing tricks on her.

Considering how attached she was getting, it wouldn't surprise her.

Meira looked back to Karen and saw her friend's concerned and curious look, but she shook her head ever so slightly. She didn't want to leave Whistler and the blood samples and go talk right now.

"I'm going to go get him more blood and see if he'd be willing to give more samples in a little while," Meira stated softly, glancing at Whistler almost nervously. She didn't want people to start thinking there was more to the situation than there was. But then again, if Whistler suspected Meira was attached to Nomak and maybe infatuated or attracted to him, that wouldn't be thinking there was more to the situation than there really was.

Because the situation was really just that Jared was a little, lost boy trapped inside a man's body, and she wanted him for her mate. She didn't love him, she didn't delude herself that he was in love with her, and she had no hope for a happily ever after with him. But she did want him for her mate, and she did want to give him some comfort.

She was attached and attracted. She wasn't really sure of anything else just yet.

Karen reached out while Meira bowed her head and tried to hide her nervous demeanor. Her hand gently squeezed Meira's shoulder, and the female werewolf was grateful. "Okay, you do that, but get some rest later," Karen instructed softly. "You may have superpowers, but you look like you could use a good, long nap," she added, her tone becoming lighter, playfully chiding.

Meira gave her friend a grateful smile and nodded. "Will do, but I think it's best for all of us if we get the research with Jared done as soon as possible," Meira replied, not even realizing she had slipped with Nomak's first name yet again.

The other two, however, picked up on it immediately, but neither of them said a word. Karen watched while Meira turned and strode out of the room, after giving a nod to Whistler. He had been civil, if untrusting, and the latter was perfectly understandable. Whistler nodded back, and promptly gave Karen a questioning look, but all he got in reply was a half shrug.

Meira was oblivious to it all though, her thoughts back on Jared Nomak. She had hoped to give him more time before she went to see him again. It felt like every time they parted ways, they were thrown right back together again five minutes later. While she no longer minded, she was well aware he would this time.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure that Jared would be in a confused, therefore foul, state, and with fresh wounds still bleeding, he wouldn't want to be exposed to her so soon. So when she saw him, she would be friendly, open, and warm. But she wouldn't talk about their last conversation, and she wouldn't show pity.

Jared seemed to hate pity as much as he hated disgust. Maybe more so. Considering who he once been, who he still should be, Meira couldn't really blame him.

Meira walked over to the fridge the lab, still unaware that Karen and Whistler were glancing at her every so often - Karen with concern, Whistler with a wary curiosity. She hoped that bringing three bags of blood would also help the upcoming conversation with Nomak go as close to smoothly as possible. Which probably would be as smooth as a gravel road, at best.

Once she had those three bags, she gave the other two a brief nodded before briskly striding out of the lab and heading back towards Nomak's room. This could very likely get loud, and maybe ugly, but Meira was actually doing this for Nomak's sake. The sooner they had what they needed from him, the sooner Ulric could make him the offer, and the sooner Nomak could help them, get a cure if there was one, and be on his merry way.

And maybe he would give her the one thing from him she wanted before he left.

It's not like he wouldn't get anything out of it either. So he wouldn't have anything to complain about. He would get his cure, he would get his revenge, he would get laid, and he could then go off and do whatever he liked. That sounds like a good offer to me. Damn I hope he doesn't flip out when I propose, when I make it. Don't make this sound like a freaking engagement, Meira, you're attached enough. Romantic delusions aren't your style anyway.

So caught up in her thoughts, Meira didn't even realize that she was heading in the same direction that another werewolf was coming from. When his scent finally reached her nostrils, it was just in time to look up and see him round a corner, nearly stalking right into her.

Meira tried not to snarl slightly in anger and revolution, and she succeeded for the most part. She glanced up, about to either snap at Vladimir or giving him a biting apology. But the look he gave her made her mouth stay clamped shut.

The Beta male was damp and smelled heavily of soap, shampoo, and shower water, but the faint scent of Valora lingered on him. The added scent of that female made Meira soften somewhat, and hope almost sprang up, but she guarded. It might not mean anything, he might still chase her like prey - he said mate, she felt more like prey.

Her hope was short lived though, because she realized he did not look like a male who had just mated, or at least mated and enjoyed himself. He looked miserable, but not in his usually grumpy, arrogant way. Not in the way that made her want to snarl and snap at him, but in a way she had never seen before. He for once looked like he didn't hold his arrogance or confidence. He looked miserable, and Meira got the strangest impression he was miserable with himself as much as he was with her and, or, Jared.

"Excuse me," Vladimir stated softly after a moment, eying her as she eyed him. He seemed to grow more disgusted with her than himself though, and he glanced at the blood bags in her hands. "Didn't mean to keep you from your new pet," he added with contempt, his tone indicating that the words came out tasting like bile.

Meira bit her lip to keep from snapping back with something sarcastic and laced with venom. She merely walked around Vladimir, expecting him to call after her with a lewd or degrading - or both - comment, but all she heard was his footsteps pick up and grow distant, heading in the same direction he had been before their, run-in, opposite from where she was headed.

The female werewolf couldn't help but feel a slight shock at how easily he had let her go. Maybe her hopes were right. Maybe he would leave her alone and content himself with Valora. She cast a glance over her shoulder, watching the male walk away from her, down the corridor, and she turned a corner, finally looking away.

He hadn't looked back once. He must have known she had glanced at him, yet he had ignored her after his last comment. Maybe he was finally getting a clue. Maybe he was just giving her a much needed break, that would hopefully last forever.

Meira picked up the pace slightly, glancing down at the still fairly cool bags of blood. Well, if running into Vladimir had gone so nicely, maybe the conversation with Nomak wouldn't be so bad either. But consider she still wasn't sure of just what all exactly had happened - and might never figure it out unless Jared opened up to her completely, which was higher than highly unlikely - she wasn't about to let her hopes rise.

* * *

Vladimir stalked down the corridors to find Richard and see if Ulric had gotten back yet. He kept his thoughts on what he was doing, not on the brief time with Meira in the hallway. He had tried to keep from saying a word other than the "Excuse me," but when he caught sight the blood bags, picked up the scent of Nomak and Karen and the other human, all mixed and hanging on Meira, he couldn't help himself.

Why did she spend all of her time with the human woman? Or, now, with the reaper? Why did she degrade herself act like she was human, or worse, vampire? Why did she constantly push and shove him away, shoot him down, turn her back to him, give him the cold shoulder? Why could she not see how he longed for her? Why could she not stop pretending that she wasn't half animal?

Vlad growled softly to himself. He had let his thoughts run rampant again, and look where it had gotten him? Back on Meira, on pining for her. He had vowed to himself he wouldn't stoop so let again, and look at where he was heading? Down, down, down. He just couldn't get low enough it seemed.

Turning another corner, Vladimir finally came to the door to the security room. He knocked and entered briskly, and Richard looked up, bowing his head in greeting and submission. Vladimir nodded in reply, then went straight to business. If only he had more business to attend to, then maybe he could forget about Meira.

There is always Valora. She would be quite willing to distract you from any other females.

As soon as that thought popped up, Vlad squelched it.

"Has Ulric returned yet?" Vladimir questioned Richard, keeping his mind focused on waiting for the answer. Until he left the security room, he would not think about either female. Maybe he should take a vacation and go somewhere nice, secluded, and female free once all this reaper mess was taken care of. Maybe then his mind would clear of his infatuation, and the wolf would settle down and return to being content with being alone.

Richard shook his head, mouth opening to voice the answer his body was already given, when Vlad caught sight of Ulric entering on one of the screens in the room. Richard noticed Vladimir's eyes had left him and moved somewhere else, and he turned as well. He looked up at the screen that Ulric could be seen on, then turned to reply in the affirmative this time.

But Vladimir had already turned, and was striding out of the security room. He needed to talk with Ulric, apologize for his behavior and see if the Alpha was all right. He didn't want there to be bad blood between them. Vladimir owed this position to Ulric in part, and Ulric could easily have him removed. And Vladimir did not want to disappoint his Alpha, even without his position on the line. Ulric had been a good friend and leader for a very long time, and Vlad didn't want to put that at risk.

There was also the fact that he didn't like wondering if Melantha was still angry at him. He remembered the first time she had been angry at him, and that had not ended pleasantly. True, that had been long before he had become Beta of the werewolf population, but she was older, wiser, and stronger now. That meant her punishment would be even worse most likely. If so, well, that did not bode well for Vladimir and what was left of his pride. Sometimes, Vladimir feared Melantha more than he feared Ulric.

But only sometimes.

* * *

Ulric slowly strode down the hallways that led to his and Melantha's chambers. He was only in slight pain now, most of the wounds he had gotten already halfway healed. He ignored any lycanthropes he passed, intent on getting to his chambers, though not as swiftly as possible. Ulric was still quite certain Melantha was going to kill him the moment she saw him.

Lighthammer had proven to be a fairly formidable opponent. However, his hammer was a bigger threat than he was, and even that Ulric could withstand. The reaper would be difficult, perhaps, since he seemed more like Nomak than the other reapers, but Ulric was confident that could be dealt with. They did have the carrier after all.

As Ulric neared his chambers, he saw Vladimir coming towards him. He could tell the Beta wished to talk with him, and Ulric's temper had cooled. But he still wasn't in the mood to talk, partly because he wanted to patch things up with his mate, or submit himself to her punishment. As the Beta neared, Ulric shook his head, gesturing with his hand that now was not the time.

"We will talk later, old friend," Ulric stated softly as Vlad came up to him. "That is, if my mate does not kill me," he added with a wry smirk. "Go on about your business, you've nothing to fear from either of us. Melantha's ire will be settled on me now, not you," he continued, and he knew that though Vladimir did not show it, he was relieved he would not be in danger because of his irresponsible antics earlier.

"I will leave you then," Vladimir stated, bowing his head in respect before turning from Ulric, heading off in the direction of the sparring room. Or at least Ulric assumed that was where Vlad was going, since the sparring room was that way, and the Beta probably did need for the exercise.

With a sigh of resignation - he had, after all, brought this on himself - Ulric walked towards his chambers, quietly opening the door. He entered silently, closing and locking the door, and found Melantha lying down.

She was propped up against some pillows at the head of the bed, her eyes staring out their window. She wore her silver nightgown, her skin glowing and her dark hair hiding her face like a thick, black curtain. But immediately it was obvious that she was upset about something, and Ulric nearly punished himself for leaving.

_If I did this much damage to her, I'm going to beg her to kill me_, Ulric vowed to himself as he quietly walked over, removing his dirty clothing on the way. He didn't want to be near her wearing filthy clothing, his skin was dirty enough. He wished he could get a shower first, but he was too worried.

"I want us to go and visit our children," Melantha stated abruptly. She had spoken before Ulric could emit a word, and she didn't even glance at him. Her words were filled with tears though, tears that Ulric was certain had already been shed.

Reaching out a hand, Ulric brushed some of Melantha's hair back, revealing damp cheeks and glassy eyes. He winced inwardly and nodded. "Of course. When do you want to go?" he asked quietly, voice gentle but not overly placating. He understood what was going on. He had been told, after all, that his mate would most likely be visiting with Silvia during Ulric's outing.

Ulric knew that the females' relationship was still a bit tense, but he also knew Melantha wished to rectify that. But attempting to had brought back painful memories it seemed, or maybe worse, maybe the wonderful ones.

Melantha closed her eyes, one hand lifting to wipe away her tears. She finally looked up at Ulric, much more composed, and he smiled at her grace and strength. "As soon as the reaper mess is dealt with. I want us to go and visit all of them, spend as much time as we can," she stated, and Ulric nodded, his eyes promising. The Alpha female smiled faintly at that, and then she went from grieving mother to irritated Alpha.

"Let me get a shower and then get a little rest, please?" Ulric asked hastily, before Melantha could speak again. He waited for several moments, Melantha giving him a slight glare as she thought it over. But in the end he got a reluctant nod from her, and she pushed him off the bed. Smirking, Ulric kissed her cheek and stepped into the bathroom, turning the shower on.

He could hear Melantha pulling down the bedcover and sheets. That was followed by the gentle rustle of her silken gown sliding off her from and pooling around her feet on the floor. Well, that was a good sign. He knew he was really in for it when she remained clothed.

The Alpha male quickly washed off, his wounds healing rapidly. They were healing faster than the stink from the tunnels was being washed off it seemed. But after a few more minutes, he was satisfied that the stink was gone for the most part, and he didn't want to keep Melantha waiting any longer. Ulric wasted no time getting out and drying off, but when he walked back into the bedchamber, he found Melantha asleep under one sheet.

Lying on her side, one arm under her head and one resting near her stomach, Ulric smiled faintly at the sight. She was in the position she usually slept in while she was pregnant. Whether this was a conscious decision on her part, he wasn't certain, but it didn't matter.

"Pleasant dreams, my love," Ulric whispered, leaning down and placing a soft kiss on his mate's temple before he walked around to the other side. Slipping under the sheet silently, Ulric moved so that he was next to his mate, her back pressing into his chest. His arms slid around her slender waist, and he gave her shoulder a kiss before he closed his eyes, falling asleep to gentle sound of her breathing and heartbeat, her scent filling his nostrils.


	12. The L Word

Author's note: Yes! I've finally finished this entire chapter! I'm sorry it took me so long, but it was really hard for me to get through the Nomak/Meira scent. I was partly feeling guilty for how it'd end, and kind of nervous about making it seem believable and IC. But it's finally done, and at 13 pages and over 10,000 words, too! The first few scenes are the same, but this chapter now has a Lighthammer scene and then a Nomak/Meira scene added to it. Thank you so much for all the reviews, including the few for this chapter - I'm particularly happy I got a review that seemed positive towards the Blade/Nyssa scene, as that's my least favorite Blade ship and Nyssa ship, but I promised a friend I would get them in as much as possible. One more note and then I'll shut up - the name of this chapter does apply to each scene, but it isn't the same word for each scene. If anyone would like to apply an L word to any of the scenes in the reviews, I'm curious of what you, the readers, think. Okay, shutting up now.

Disclaimer: Look, people, I do not own anything except the werewolves and Faris. Not that I could win in a lawsuit if you took them, most likely. So please, don't sue me, and I won't try to steal your stuff, only borrow it without making any claim. Savvy?

* * *

CHAPTER ELEVEN: THE L WORD

Nyssa watched Blade pace across his room in the warehouse. They had come the Daywalker's temporary home instead of Nyssa's constant home due to it being closer. And all of them needed closer after the battle with Lighthammer.

Lighthammer was a reaper now, an enemy. It had been bad enough losing Priest, who had been a close friend of Nyssa's. She had met the Irish vampire through her closest friend and most loyal comrade, Asad, and the three of them had been close. While she had never been that close with Priest's best friend Chupa, she had shared Chupa's grief though she hid it well. But now Lighthammer as well?

What was worse, he seemed to have kept some of his intelligence. He was closer to Nomak, it seemed, especially after feeding on Scud.

Nyssa subconsciously focused her gaze at Blade again at the thought of his human companion, unable to stop the reflex. But her eyes went thoughtful and distant once more, drifting down to stare at the floor. Things were less complicated when she wasn't looking at the man she had been trained to kill. Though they would be even better if she wasn't around him at all. Things were so complicated now, and she hated it.

Why couldn't they go back to the basic mission, to kill the reapers and their leader, then Blade? The Daywalker. She barely referred to him as that now, and it was dangerous. Her thoughts were making him closer, making things more personal, more complicated. Why couldn't she stop thinking about how honorable and worthy an opponent and ally he was?

Letting out a soft sigh, Nyssa's thoughts mercifully turned from Blade - the Daywalker - and back to Lighthammer. She wondered what had happened to Verlaine, and her stomach clenched as if she would vomit, horror feeling her as her mind ran wild with the possibilities. She hoped that Verlaine had died a quick, painless, and honorable death, and she prayed it wasn't by the mutated shell of her lover.

Her comrades were falling one by one, and Nyssa grieved their loss, most especially Asad. Her loyal friend, loyal to her and even more to her father. She had trained alongside him, under him. She had known him the longest of all the Bloodpack - though half the time they weren't considered part of the Bloodpack, more like her father's personal warriors.

Priest, Verlaine, Chupa, and Lighthammer, even if he was still walking. All had fallen. Only three remained now, along with the Daywalker - Blade - and he was suffering from the loss of his human. And not knowing how Abraham Whistler was. That was what wearied him the most, Nyssa was quite certain of. He was probably even more worried now that Scud was dead, reminding him that no matter how much experience and knowledge you had, if you were human among inhuman beings, your life was fragile.

The vampire princess of sorts focused her attention on Blade when she heard him grunt slightly, and realized he was still hurting. She thought he had tended to his wounds already, but judging by the sound he had made, it was from pain. Not the frustration she had thought was all he felt right now, besides a fear for a comrade and companion.

Upon arriving at the warehouse, Nyssa had gone towards Blade, but he'd waved her off before she even had a chance to touch him or say a word. She had watched him go, then tended to her own wounds and made sure Snowman and Reinhardt were fine. She had listened to Reinhardt grumble, knowing that part of him was pissed, part of him was getting paranoid.

Reinhardt had never been particularly close to anyone else in the Bloodpack. He had been the leader and had said it would be best if he didn't form emotional attachments. Sure, he enjoyed the company, especially Chupa's, but it was well known he would never shed any tears for the fallen. But seeing them picked off one by one, and now one of their own being a mutation that had somehow retained some of who he had once been, Nyssa could tell it had gotten to Reinhardt.

This whole situation reminded each of them that despite being near immortal, they were not invincible, and they could die at any moment really. Their lives were not as fragile as humans', but the reapers had been a rude wake up. Even vampires could meet a far too early death.

Snowman was handling it the best of all of them. He mourned the fallen ones and tried to honor those still living, even Blade. Perhaps he felt a sort of kinship, a respect for a fellow warrior. Perhaps this had just made him realize that they had to be more than tentative allies - they had to be teammates, they had to trust each other and look out for each other as if they did care, as if there was no rivalry amongst them.

And Nyssa herself, she was stoic and thoughtful on the outside, but inside she was a mess. Her thoughts were a tangle from the confusion with Blade, all the conflict he sparked inside her. She was a wreck from her mixed up mind and the ugly truth that she was now going to have to battle against a friend and ex-teammate. And the werewolves' addition to the mix, not to mention the fact that her father was holding things from them.

Everything was a wreck, and nobody was really doing anything to try and fix it. In fact it seemed everyone just wanted to shake things up even more.

Unbidden, thoughts of a certain subject Ulric had brought up returned to her mind. She wanted to know who this Karen was, who she was to Blade.

_I sound as though I'm the new girlfriend, afraid of the old one I never knew about_, Nyssa mentally berated herself as she watched Blade continue pacing, and then she remembered he was in pain. The scent of blood wasn't fresh, so at least his wounds hadn't reopened. She rose, walking over to him and ignoring the jumbled up thoughts inside her head.

"Maybe I should have a look at your wounds," Nyssa stated softly, and Blade gave her a look that said she wouldn't do any such thing. Already beyond frustrated herself, Nyssa finally snapped, breaking under the pressure of the reaper situation, the werewolves and her father, and the fact that she was starting to care for a man whose mission in life was to wipe out her race.

"Don't give me that look, and stop acting like you're untouchable! You're mortal, Blade, despite all our perks, and even with them you're still in pain, so just sit down and let me make sure they are healing properly! We need you, we all need to stay alive, everyone of us! If you haven't been paying attention, we're slowly dropping in numbers!"

The outburst caught Blade by surprise, and Nyssa panted for a moment, wishing she could say more. But she didn't, and Blade nodded, obeying her more out of shock than actual agreement most likely. It would do though.

Nyssa walked over as he sat down on the edge of the bed, and began to remove his vest and the shirt beneath it. She noted the wince he made and laid her hands over his, meeting his eyes and shaking her head. The message was clear, and again, Blade obeyed. As he lowered his hands, she removed the clothing from his upper body as gently as possible.

After many years of dealing with wounded warriors, Nyssa could handle gentle rather well. The fact that she was female helped her out as well.

She didn't really look at Blade's face or meet his eyes, and she had the impression that he was doing the same. This was an awkward situation after all. She was a vampire warrior, trained to kill him, a half vampire who was intent on destroying them all. Did that include her now? Or was he facing the same dilemma that plagued her thoughts?

"They wounded you badly," Nyssa stated softly as she inspected the wounds that marred Blade's otherwise sculpted flesh. She couldn't help but glance over him, admiring him not only as a fellow warrior, but as, well, an almost perfectly built and worked on male. She bit her lip, refusing to let Blade realize that she appreciated the hours he had put into strengthening his body. His tattoos covered more of him than she had suspected, and she found them enthralling almost, a beautiful work of art tracing over him.

Still, the injuries were rather, painful, looking. They ruined was otherwise would be a sinewy, toned body, every muscle that should be visible, visible, and everything that shouldn't be wasn't. She winced despite herself, not sure who had hurt Blade more, Ulric or Lighthammer. While none of Ulric's blows had caused many open injuries, they had caused visible bruising, and probably a few broken bones. He had more strength behind his blows after all - her faintly stinging jaw reminded her of that.

"Everything seems good," Nyssa finally stated, but she was concerned by Blade's silence and utter stillness. Her eyes lifted and met his without even meaning to, his gaze directed at her, intense and unreadable. She was barely aware of her breath catching in her throat or the way her fingers lingered on his skin from their examination, then abruptly dropped.

Blade simply stared at her, searching her if felt like. He kept her gaze locked with his, as if using that thrall power that some legends said her kind had, forcing her to maintain eye contact so he could probe her thoughts, motives, desires, everything. It was disturbing, it dragged out, his stare seeming to last forever. In truth it lasted about thirty seconds, and then he looked away, ahead.

Nyssa blinked once, then again, and then several times rapidly as her heartbeat and breathing, which had stopped, abruptly started up again, frantic. She quickly regained control over herself though, then rose and wordlessly strode out of the room without glancing back. She feared she might not leave if she looked back.

The Daywalker didn't say a word as she left, but she felt his gaze on her back. He watched her leave, the what of his gaze burning her back and helping her remember not to look back, proving to her that if she did she would meet that gaze again.

She had no idea what would happen if she met that gaze again. She didn't understand it, and part of her didn't want to, was afraid to. Things were complicated enough, why did he have to continued increasing her confusion.

Even her own father was adding enough to the mix, couldn't Blade leave her be and act like he hated her again? Or maybe he did hate her, and this was his way of attacking her. How like a vampire it was if that was indeed his intentions. And how he would love to hear that, too, and certainly her father would find it amusing.

Perhaps she should just ignore them both. The two most prominent men in her life at the moment were the two people who should have been causing her the least amount of problems and conflicts and confusion. Yet they were the ones that were driving her closer and closer to insanity.

If only Asad had survived. He had always been a good listener, and while perhaps partly fueled by duty due to who Nyssa was, he never made her feel like that was his sole reason for putting up with her. She could use that solace, but Asad was dead, and all she could do was mourn him and try to figure things out on her own.

Truth be told, she might not have as much conflict if Asad was still alive. But the only man she had considered for a lover was dead, which left her with the impossible alternative that she seemed to want. All things considered, she would have preferred to keep on pining for Asad's mangled corpse instead of the Daywalker.

* * *

It was nearing dawn, the light slowly creeping in through closed blinds, when Donovan awoke. The first thing he noticed was Aysel was half atop him, half beside. The second was that her claws were digging into his back almost painfully, despite his mate being asleep. And the third thing he noticed was that she was smiling against his chest.

The male glanced down, able to see a glimpse of the smile almost completely hidden by her hair and his flesh. It was a beautiful smile, one that broke his heart.

Hopeful, fearful, loving, worrying. All of Aysel's love and all of her fear lying on her lips and curving them upwards ever so slightly. Peaceful, serene, but Donovan caught the lingering falter that hinted at her fear of loosing that peace, the serenity they had been able to find after the vampire attack.

Donovan closed his eyes, an almost mournful sigh escaping him. Tightening his hold and ignoring the tiny droplets of blood Aysel was drawing, he kissed the top of her head and rubbed her back. He knew she could sleep through the contact - about a year after they had joined the main base in Prague she had finally grown confident enough in herself, in Donovan, in the security, in the pack, to sleep peacefully.

And except for an occasional nightmare, or during a rough period for the pack, she slept far beyond peacefully, and soundly.

But there was always that fear. Aysel hid it so well, yet it was always there. Donovan and Richard could both see it, and they both knew they could never free her of it. Ever since the vampires had attacked and killed everyone but her and Richard, Aysel had been unable to truly put away the fear that she would lose everything she hadn't lost then and all she had gained since.

Not that they could blame her though. It pained Donovan to even think of what had happened to his mate. It killed him that he hadn't been there to protect her. But she had protected herself and Richard, long enough for the local pack to get there. Donovan couldn't have been more thankful for Aysel's hidden strength than he was when he came home and learned what had happened.

It was amazing she had survived that night, really, and it was amazing she had ever managed to let anyone, including Donovan, touch her again. But as soon as he had arrived, he had nearly been crushed in her embrace. Since then Aysel had touched him often and let him touch her - sometimes even demanded it, in her own subtle, taunting way.

Donovan shoved away those cruel thoughts of his haunted mate and their human past. Arms tightening more, he kissed her hair and nuzzled the brown and blonde strands with his nose, inhaling the scents they carried. He could feel his beloved starting to wake, stirring against him.

Abruptly Aysel's claws withdrew from the flash of Donovan's back, and she gave him an apologetic look. Her eyes displayed her regret, which wasn't unusual for when she dug her nails in - she had done it before on nights when the bad dreams threatened, but only flittered through her mind and then left her alone. It would seem unusual behavior, considering how violent they, and especially Aysel herself, could be when sparring. But that was different.

Donovan wasn't trying to get some sleep with they were sparring after all.

"Forgive me, Donovan, I didn't realize," she murmured, her voice alert and awake as her senses took in everything, that fact obvious and part of their everyday routine. She licked her fingers clean quickly, and placed apologetic kisses along his jaw and neck.

The sound of purring filled their ears, and Donovan smiled lovingly as he stroked Aysel's hair. "I know, Aysel, nothing to worry about," he assured her, kissing her temple. No more comfort was needed, because he had given her comfort every time, and by now she knew he meant it every time, even if he didn't say hundreds of pretty words of assurance.

Soothed and comfortable, Aysel nodded against his neck as her head found her favorite pillow, nestling in the crook of his neck. She was fully awake, barely tired, Donovan knew. Aysel liked to lie in bed in the mornings unless there was an assignment. Otherwise, this was her favorite time, their resting period.

It was when they could simply lie in bed, wrapped up or just beside each other, and almost believe they were the people they had once been. That they were lying in a bed in their own house, living peacefully in marital bliss. It was one of the few times they glimpsed a life stolen from them by the walking leeches. By now they had moved on from the bitterness, and were just thankful they had this at least.

Because it was better than being dead, or worse. Being one of them.

Donovan ran his fingers through Aysel's hair as she gently kissed his neck and nibbled on a small area of skin, the action gentle. He purred, the sound more like something from a tiger than a wolf at the moment. His noise made Aysel giggle softly, that young, unashamed giggle from days of carefree love and life. He loved that giggle, and grinned wolfishly as he let out a tiger purr.

Soon he had prompted Aysel from a giggle to full blown laughing, and tears were coming out of her eyes as she clutched her sides, not even her lycanthropy strong enough to ward off her laughter from reaching her ribs. Donovan joined her as he watched, the sight of her in hysterical giggle fits always something to get the same reaction from him.

Yes, they could be content with just these moments where all was right, and the past and present were a blur, a blur that didn't matter. They could be quite content and happy with what they got.

* * *

"Make the sunlight go away, Ulric, it's too bright," came a muffled, feminine, groggy, and very annoyed voice, breath hitting a masculine chest that also could feel the movement of a female's lips, obviously the one who had spoken.

"If I remember correctly, you're the one who demanded we always sleep with the blinds and curtains open," a male voice, just as groggy but not annoyed or muffled, replied with sedated, wry humor. "Oh, and didn't you come from a kingdom that worshipped the sun above all things except maybe death? A desert climate as well?"

"Stop reminding me of all that!" the female voice snapped, though it was muffled still, as the female's head stayed buried against the male's chest, while her arms pulled the covers over their heads. "I was stupid before today, I admit it. On the subject of the sun, anyway," Melantha hastily added the last part, knowing Ulric would have seized the opportunity she had given him had she not been quick enough with that last sentence.

Chuckling, Ulric pulled away - reluctantly - and rose, striding over to shut the blinds and let the curtains down. Once the window was completely covered and the light dimmed as much as possible, he returned to bed where his mate was waiting.

Melantha eagerly snuggled back up to him, head buried in his chest once more after he was settled. "You can be as proud and willful as a three year old, but you still make a comfy pillow, my love," she murmured, her voice sleepier than before.

Ulric smiled at her tone and her words, his arms holding her a bit tighter. "Well, thank you, Beloved," he whispered, and lowered enough so that he could steal a quick kiss from her lips before returning to his previous position, lest his Queen Wolf get royally pissed with him. Again.

"Don't let it go to your head. Last thing I need is your head getting bigger," she muttered in reply, but kissed his chest gently, her fingers idly stroking his back. "I should really stop stroking your ego so much."

A grin that would have better fit a three year old than a very old werewolf as willful as one formed on Ulric's face, and he could not keep his next remark in. "I have no problem with that, as long as you start stroking another part of me instead," he told her, and promptly got his shoulder smacked. And then his butt slapped. He continued to grin to himself as Melantha went back to sleep.

* * *

Valora groaned softly as she woke up, immediately remember her thoughts of how going to sleep in the position she was in now might not be that comfortable. She wished she had listened to herself, because she was a bit stiff, and there was a crick in her neck. Sure, in a few moments it'd be gone, she'd be fine, but it was bloody annoying while it was there.

The sound of knocking, and the familiar scent of a certain male - who her wolf was interested in doing one of two things to, and wasn't sure which she preferred at the moment - was what woke her up. She realized this as Vladimir spoke her name, asking if she was in there.

"You can smell and hear me, can't you, asshole?" the female snapped, and then groaned again. This time it was because she had just snapped at her leader and Beta. But it was hard to remember that when the wolf was howling for blood or sex, insulted by the male outside, seeing him only as a male that had rejected her after nearly mating with her.

And some people thought their kind were nothing like humans.

Sighing and hoping Vladimir wouldn't be offended by her earlier comment and the tone carrying it, Valora rose, cracked her neck, and walked over to the door. When she opened it, she saw Vladimir was in a slightly better mood - or was a really good actor - than he had been earlier, but there was still an edge to him. Hopefully not enough of one for her to get in hot water.

"I'm sorry, I-"

"Don't."

Valora blinked at how abruptly Vladimir cut her off, and she watched him as he shook his head, meeting her eyes, and she knew she wasn't going to get in trouble for snapping. She could tell by the look in his eyes that he had come there to talk, not to get into any kind of fight or get anyone in trouble.

"You had a right, especially considering you aren't pureborn. Even a pureborn would snap at that, and with that little extra humanity in you, it's no surprise," he stated, and for a moment Valora wasn't sure if she was comforted or insulted more. But at least he wasn't angry. "I came here to apologize for earlier, and, to ask you to meet me in the sparring room. We need to talk, and I think we could both use some activity and a way to relieve some tension," her leader explained to her, and Valora nodded. He smiled, a tight, thin smile that wasn't all that sincere, but hey, least he tried.

Brushing her short hair back, Valora answered him. "I'll be there in five minutes, just have to change," she informed him, and Vladimir nodded, turning and heading for the sparring room without another word. She was used to his behavior though, and that was the one thing that hadn't really surprised her. She was used to abrupt, blunt, but not the effort for patching things up or trying to explain behavior, or even giving her the time of day.

She was not about to complain though.

Quickly, she changed and then headed out of her room. Her quarters weren't far from the sparring room, all of the security team was located near the sparring room, weapons room, etc. It did just take her five minutes to get there, and she was quite pleased with herself for not taking longer.

The wolf inside wasn't all that crazy about this though, looking for more than just sparring. But Valora would take what she could get, and who knew where this would lead? It would also help her in her plan, help her remember just how skilled Vladimir was, freshen up on his weaknesses and the moves she really had to look out for.

I must be crazy. I want to make plans to challenge Vladimir, the top Beta and leader of Ulric's head of security, my own leader, just to either humiliate him, or humiliate and claim him. When what will more likely happen is I'll be the one humiliated, and perhaps worse, perhaps lowered down, taken off the team, sent to another base. I worked my ass off to get here, to be part of this team, and I want to put that at risk?

Sometimes I wonder if we lycanthropes have worse love lives than humans do.

Vladimir was doing push-ups in the middle of the floor when she entered the sparring room, using only his left hand at the moment. As Valora watched, the Beta male switched, mid push-up, to his right. He moved with such grace, one would think that such a trick was effortless, and for him it was. Perhaps to some he would appear to be showing off, maybe to get Valora worried over who would win the sparring session, but she knew better.

If there was one thing Valora knew about her leader, it was that he loved and lived to push himself. He was never satisfied with his performance unless he had pushed himself as hard as he could go. Vladimir trained hard, every day, to always be at the top of his game.

And then Valora remembered the fight from earlier. She realized he probably was going to try and push himself until he finally did collapse into unconsciousness - and if any werewolf could reach that point, it was Vladimir. After earlier, he knew he was lacking, and he wasn't happy about it.

Which meant there would be no holding back in the fight.

Good. I hate it when he holds back. And it'll give me a chance to see if my plan could ever work. Okay, stop thinking about that plan, it's a stupid, suicidal plan that will only end up with you making a fool of yourself. All because Vladimir isn't interested in you, and you can't get a grip on yourself to deal with the rejection.

Valora cracked her neck again and then her knuckles, still watching. She admired his form and his dedication to keeping himself in such hardened condition. Part of her also felt sympathy for him, because she realized that it would be hard for him not to challenge the reaper again, to get a chance to fight and win.

After five more push-ups, Vladimir rose so he was standing, his skin ever so slightly damp, and the bright lights made his skin seem almost shiny due to the moisture covering him. It was not enough of a sweat to make his tank cling to his form though, but it was just enough to be noticeable, and it was pleasing to Valora's senses.

"I wish to apologize for my behavior earlier. I should not have let things get so far, and though it was for your good as much as mine, I'm sorry that I brushed you off so quickly and rudely," Vladimir stated as he met her gaze, ignoring the obvious lust that was in her eyes again. He did that often, so it didn't come as much surprise now. The only thing that did surprise her was the apology - and it was enough to keep her wounded, feminine pride from feeling wounded.

"Thank you, Sir," she stated, blinking and swallowing. The female wasn't really sure how exactly to react to that, so she just nodded and didn't say anymore after her initial reply. That was all that was needed after all, she supposed.

The Beta nodded and then waved her over. "Well, let's fight then. Feel free to take out any aggression or anger you feel towards me," he told her, and his Russian accent was huskier and thicker now, as if the prospect of an actual fight, no holds barred and nothing held back, was just as arousing as he found that snotty scientist he loved so much to be. "Just be warned - I won't be holding back."

Smirking and easily slipping into a fighting stance, Valora met his gaze. "That's just what I wanted to hear, Sir," she responded. While she didn't find this as arousing as mating, it was close, and at the moment, preferable. Because right now, she didn't really want to get laid, despite her instinctive reactions to his sweat and apparent lust for fighting.

Once the fight was over, Valora wasn't sure who had actually attacked first, but once the first move had been made, it was impossible to tell who was moving second, third, so on, so forth. Their attacks were colliding and blocking, their movements almost so perfect it was like a dance, yet so fast and almost frenzied, it was like wild, injured animals fighting for their lives.

They slashed, hit, kicked, punched, slapped, backhanded, kneed, elbowed, clawed, bit. They were rabid and yet focused, a focus that was almost impossible to perceive, unless they had been viewed by another on the team or by the Alphas.

Both remained in human form, wanting to see how much damage they could do without shedding their human skins and taking their larger, stronger, and more deadly forms. They bruised and bloodied each other, their wounds healing even as they continued to create new ones.

In the end, Vladimir one. He almost lost when Valora bit into his shoulder, canines sinking deep and only budging to let them tear through his flesh as her mouth dragged from almost from his arm to dangerously close to his neck. He had roared in pain, and Valora had bit deeper as she reached his neck.

They had long ago lost any restraint, and it had become a fight to the death practically, neither of them really thinking clearly. They didn't stop to ponder if their would kill or be killed when an opening came.

While Valora's attack was dangerous, it also left her back completely open for attack, and Vladimir wrapped his arms around her, as if embracing her, but his claws dug into her skin, near her skin, and immediately Valora tore her mouth from his shoulder, some of his blood and even bits of his flesh going with her. She gave him just enough of an opening for the Beta to pin her roughly to the ground on her stomach, his breath hot in her ear as he panted.

Vladimir almost killed her then, but stopped himself just in time, teeth at the right side of her neck, towards the back. His canines had sunk in enough to draw blood, and there was apprehension in her eyes. His demeanor had warned her it might could come to this, she knew that he was a dangerous opponent, but there was no fear in her eyes, despite the fact that she knew he could kill her and almost had, and might still.

The male let go of her neck though, rising shakily and breathing hard. He didn't pay any attention to Valora as she rose, instead focusing on reigning himself in, lupine nature trying to take hold of him most likely.

It would make sense, anyway, because she was having to deal with her own riled up wolf. Panting hard, slightly damp, Valora could feel her body humming with adrenaline. Adrenaline and lust. Lust for blood, lust for sex, lust for everything primal and instinctive. She could barely look at him without losing the last shreds of restraint. All she had to do was tackle him while he was distracted, and then she could have him.

And he might not even try to fight. But it wouldn't be right, and in the end, it wouldn't be what she wanted.

She would regret it, and then all hope of ever attaining that which she sought most would be crushed, completely, totally, irreversibly.

That train of thought brought her down, and the scent of arousal, slowly growing stronger, died down. She felt as if her hopes had been crushed already now. Valora watched Vladimir, waiting for him to acknowledge her as he closed his eyes and finally breathed calmly. She envied his control, and she hated him for possessing it.

But when Vladimir turned, eyes opening and meeting hers, Valora's breath caught in her throat, and her hopes came flooding back. "Good fight," he stated bluntly, voice deep, coming out like a growl, his Russian accent making his words almost impossible to understand, but lycanthropy did have perks to help that difficulty out.

His eyes were full of lust and respect. He finally looked at her as more than just a good member of his team, more than a mistake in the locker room. The Beta was staring at her with admiration and something akin to curiosity. As if for the first time in a long time, he was sizing her up, taking her in, and now seeing potential for more than someone to follow orders.

Valora couldn't hold back her proud smile, and she nodded. "You too," she whispered, voice husky. Part of her wanted to pounce on him, but instead she merely wiped some of the sweat from her head. She walked by him to the door, lightly brushing against him as she did.

A growl met her ears, and she realized Vladimir had reacted precisely as she wanted to their brief contact. He wasn't chasing her yet, but she wasn't just a member of his team member anymore.

She was finally competition for Meira.

* * *

He hadn't made it in time. The sun was rising, lighting the path Ulric had taken. Lighthammer could go no farther, and so he was left alone with thoughts of failure. He didn't like those thoughts, not when he was a vampire, not when he was a reaper.

They stung far worse when he was a reaper. When his strength and speed was increased greatly, when he was powerful, more powerful than the Daywalker, just as powerful and probably more so than Ulric and his kind. The sting of failure was bitter and cruel, tearing through him like a poisoned stake.

Lighthammer had failed Verlaine. He had failed protecting her, he had failed saving her. He had failed to tell her the truth until it was too late, and she would do nothing but shun him. He had failed to explain to her how this was not something to fear, but welcome.

She had stared at him with such fear and longing. So much he could no longer understand, and maybe he never had. Memories of her and them were fading fast.

The reaper went back into the shadows, hiding in the dark tunnels, away from the sunlight. His mind went back to the lover he'd had when he was a vampire. For some reason he kept thinking of her, even though he shouldn't. He was above her - she had cowered in fear and run from him, run from a stronger, powerful being who could have shown her a higher path, a greater future. He shouldn't waste his mind on her.

Yet he did. He felt another pain with her memory, something he had once understood. But now he had forgotten what it was, and he could not remember no matter how hard he tried. Maybe he didn't want to try hard enough.

* * *

It had been exactly twenty-four minutes since Meira had left Nomak's quarters when he got out of the shower and glanced out of the bathroom to the clock. He had guessed the amount of time that had passed correctly, but he couldn't be sure if he was right due to his good memory and occasional good senses of time, or if it was because of how much he missed her.

He hated himself for missing her. He hated himself for wanting to stop her, wanting to ask her so many questions, and above all, see the respect in her eyes he had seen in those last few moments.

Nobody had ever respected him. A few of the scientists had envied him, his father had barely acknowledged him as anything above a lab rat, some of the doctors had pitied him, Kounen and the familiars had reviled him, the other reapers had followed him blindly, the Daywalker had been annoyed and confused by him, Nyssa abhorred and feared him, Vladimir despised him, and Ulric, well, Ulric was an even bigger mystery than Meira was.

But now Meira had told him she respected him. And it had shown in her eyes. She hadn't respected him at first, nor after their next few meetings, but now she did. It was obvious to him now, because it appeared it had just become obvious to her.

Nomak had never been respected before. He had never seen it in the eyes of those around him. He hadn't seen it in the eyes of that druggie he'd saved. Yes, gratitude, but not respect. Not until now. Not until meeting that infuriating and intriguing female had come into his life.

How anyone could be so infuriating and so infuriatingly intriguing at the same time was beyond Nomak's comprehension at the moment. But to him, Meira was both. To him, she was confusing and comforting, a walking contradiction that sometimes had him almost to his limit and at others soothed his temper.

Now, she respected him too.

But she still confused the Hell out of him.

So much of their last conversation confounded him and shook him. He had smelled heavily of her - which led to him getting a shower, but his room was filled with her scent so as he dried off, he realized it was pretty much in vain - and he had heard her voice over and over in his head. Seen her, even after she closed that door.

Respect.

For Nomak, that was as elusive as the love that many humans chased after their whole lives and only a few were wise enough to find it. It was just as precious to him, something he had wanted as much as his father's love until the mutation, and afterwards, more than any love. Now he had it, but he was confused of how to act, how to keep it.

He didn't know how to act around people in the first place, and that was even worse with Meira, and now he was in the worst bind possible. So the question he had asked himself in the cold shower, and kept on asking himself as he dried off carefully, did he act nicer towards her or stay the same? He didn't have the answer, which angered him, and he didn't have the time to think it up, because Meira was approaching his room.

Great.

Wrapping the towel around his mostly dry form, Nomak decided to hell with it, and didn't bother dressing. She had seen him without his shirt before, she had seen him at one of his most vulnerable moments, and she was a werewolf, she probably say nude bodies at least occasionally.

Okay, to be honest, he had gone through several vulnerable moments during their last conversation, which made him want to grow colder towards her, but she hadn't left him with a look of pity which made him want to be a little less cruel towards her.

And then a part of him had said, 'Why don't you see how she reacts to you when you're naked save a towel?' He was a mutated vampire who was beyond anti-social for plenty of reasons, including the fact that he had no clue how to act in social situations, but he was still male. He could act male every so often, couldn't he?

_No, no, I'll give her the wrong idea. Can't do that. _Nomak mentally berated that male pride disguised as male curiosity at the same time he hurried to get his pants on. At least he only wore one pair of pants, not ten different pairs like he did with shirts. _Can't give her the wrong idea, she'll stop respecting me. _Glancing down, Nomak saw he had subconsciously gone back to his more "normal" look. _Well, she'll lose respect or she might take a different kind of interest in me, because whatever God there is knows that all I need of someone I don't want to lose the respect of following me even more._

Frankly, Nomak didn't honestly believe Meira would ever see him in _that_ light, or at least he hoped not, but considering his luck with her, it would be typical. Because that would put him in an even more awkward and confusing and infuriating situation, and with her, that always seemed to happen. He couldn't take it happening again, he was positive he couldn't.

But Fate seemed to have it in for him.

Meira was at the door now, and Nomak was certain her hand was raising to knock. He tossed the towel aside as he pulled his pants up. He thought about grabbing the gray tank shirt, right when Meira's hand knocked three times. For some reason, he suddenly felt like impressing Meira. So he grabbed the blue-green, button-up shirt instead.

While Meira knocked three more times, Nomak quickly slipped the shirt on and buttoned it before tucking in his pants. He smoothed it out and tried to hide some of the dirt and blood stains. He was walking to the door the whole time.

Now, Jared Nomak had never dressed up. He had never been to any social gathering, never to anything that required him to dress like a gentleman. His meetings and gatherings were only with scientists and doctors, and his father. So he wasn't exactly sure how to look, but he knew this wasn't very, well, presentable. Not for giving off a good, respectable impression. But it was as good as he could get.

He wished he could look better, look like the prince Vladimir liked to refer to him as. He wanted to impress Meira, he wanted to look like someone who could be respected and seen as an equal. The fact that he had her respect made him all the more nervous around her, he realized. Now he didn't want her to leave because she confused him, he wanted her to leave because he was afraid he would destroy the respect she held for him.

But right now, the best he could look was like a tall, semi-tanned male with a good bit of muscle wearing bloodstained, dirty clothes that carried the scent of blood, urine, ash, smoke, beer, drugs, and dirty humans.

Putting on his best casual expression, Nomak opened the door, finding Meira standing right outside with her hand raised to knock again. He smirked slightly when Meira stayed that way, hand raised and poised to knock, her eyes wider than usual as she took in his unusual - for him - appearance.

"Is there something you need?" Nomak asked softly, his voice the same as always. That was the one part of him he couldn't change back. His voice and the telltale scar running down his chin would always remain, something which made him start to seethe again, but when he focused back on Meira as she lowered her one hand and raised the other, holding blood bags, he calmed.

"I-I brought these, so you could feed," she stated, stuttering at first as if she was taking a few minutes to get used to his new look. Her reaction gave Nomak some hope - maybe he did look respectable, maybe he was impressing her. "Can I come in?" she continued, breaking Nomak from his hopeful thoughts. "I need to talk to you."

Those words and the hesitancy in her voice caused Nomak's almost, well, happy thoughts to slowly crumble, and he worried. He had no clue what was happening to him, and for a moment he tried to scramble back into his hole to cling to his security blanket called revenge, where all he felt was hate, pain, and the obsession to retribution.

Something in him was different though. The respect he had always longed for was standing right in front of him, right there. He couldn't slip back into his narrow world of revenge and hatred so easily. Especially when he might have a fighting chance at keeping that respect.

"Come in," he told her softly, stepping back to give her access. He took the bags from her hand as she entered, then tried to figure out how to feed in a more respectable manner. He couldn't, so he just tried to feed slower, less like a rabid animal who hadn't fed in a week.

Meira walked over to one of the chairs in the room, sitting down and remaining silent as he fed. Her gaze stayed on him, making him a bit more edgy, more worried.

"Go on and talk," Nomak abruptly said, lowering the bag from his mouth and quickly licking up all the blood before it could trickle from his mouth and make him look like a messy eater. "Please," he added, and was surprised when the word escaped him. Was he that desperate for respect? Obviously he was. He also didn't want them to start arguing again, not so soon. Especially when maybe they could start getting past that stage, maybe truly respect each other without yelling and bitching at each other.

There was a long silence after his please. Meira seemed surprised at the word as much as he was himself, but she didn't bring it up. Her lips parted, and she took in a deep breath. Her lips were fascinating to Nomak - there was this constant, slight curve to them. It was the feature about her that he liked the most, though he wasn't sure why.

"Jared, I think it's time I explained to you what I, what we, need of you," she began, leaning forward so her elbows rested on her knees. She didn't seem to even register she had referred to him by his first name again, but Nomak let it slide, not only to avoid an argument, but so he could finally get that precious information.

It was what he had wanted to know from the beginning, that elusive information that Ulric always seemed to dangle in front of him, just out of his reach. And now Meira, who respected him, who could be impressed by him, was going to give it to him. Maybe he had been too hard on her, maybe kept her in too harsh a light - he couldn't even remember why he'd started to dislike her in the first place, though it couldn't have even been twenty-four hours since.

Sitting down, Nomak nodding and watched her. He was waiting, it was obvious, and he seemed probably more eager than he should have, more eager than expected. His suspicion - for the latter, at least - was proven when Meira gave him an almost curious glance, then her gaze turned thoughtful. Nomak ran the expression through his head, searching his memories. He wanted to know what it meant, if there were any hints in the way her face looked at the moment.

Nomak could remember almost every expression he saw. He could remember almost everything he saw period, maybe everything though some memories weren't as clear as he would have liked. Due to all the genetic tampering, he must have gotten a really good memory, or perhaps he had just been born with it naturally - he remembered Father saying that some humans had excellent memory. Photogenic was the word his father had used.

So he used his memories and the information stored within them to try and decipher this expression. From what he knew of Meira, she was trying to decide how to explain this to him, how she wanted to state things. He wasn't sure if that was entirely correct, but he was almost positive that this thoughtfulness, this hesitation meant she was trying to word things the best way she knew how.

This meant she thought it might upset Nomak. Or it was a strong possibility that's what she thought. While Meira didn't know him that well, not by a long shot, she did know him more than he would have liked. She somehow understood some of his actions and reactions.

Perhaps it was because of her respect. Perhaps it was through her understanding that she respected him. Perhaps she had some similar traits at one point, and could figure him out by figuring herself out.

Perhaps you should stop going too deep in thought and confusing yourself right when you're about to find out what exactly is going on.

Nomak shook his head slightly, as if the physical action would help him get rid of those thoughts. He didn't really care if Meira noticed, because he wanted to do as that smart part of him said. Because it was right. If he kept thinking like that, he'd be more lost than he already was.

"I would appreciate that," Nomak finally stated. He wasn't sure if sitting or standing would be best, but he didn't want to fidget, nor did he want to pace. Not in front of Meira when he was seen as something more than what he felt like all the time. He wasn't even sure what he felt like or what she thought of him as, but he knew the latter had to be better than the former if she respected him.

Meira nodded, appearing as thoughtful as before. She didn't speak again immediately, and Nomak got the impression she was trying to word things the best way again. When she finally did speak, it was with a gentleness in her voice, not condescending or pitying. It was more like she wanted to keep from insulting or hurting Nomak, not that she didn't think he could handle it or understand it.

"I'm sure Ulric has been cryptic with you so far, and that you haven't had much contact with him since you first woke up," Meira started, Nomak nodding in confirmation - he was as eager to be as amiable and helpful as possible. "Well, I don't know when he'll get around to talking to you, so I'm going to. I should probably skip to the point," she added, letting out a soft laugh. There was a familiar quality to it, one Nomak could identify with ease.

The female werewolf was nervous. Why she was nervous, that was hidden from Nomak. But she was nervous nonetheless.

"I'm not going to bite," Nomak offered, speaking softly so the raspy quality wasn't as, overwhelming, as usual. "I just want to know why I'm here. I'm sick of secrets - my father and his kind have more than enough for vampires, werewolves, and humans put together."

Meira met his gaze, nodding as she seemed to come to a realization, perhaps that she didn't have to be careful or diplomatic with Nomak. "You're right," she stated, then smiled, faintly, but she smiled. She didn't speak again for a moment which was fortunate, because Nomak wouldn't have heard her.

He was too caught up in the way her lips curved upwards right at the corners, and he needed a moment to get used to the sight. It was a pleasant sight.

"I was trying to handle this the wrong way. I read people wrong sometimes," she stated, then brushed a few stray strands from her face. Her hair was pulled back, but Nomak noticed, with slight admiration, that it wasn't so tight now, and there was the slightest hint of wave. "You should be told plainly, not with special care, and I'm sorry," Meira continued, interrupting Nomak's thoughts on her hair.

The reaper shrugged. "I'm not the easiest person to read. Not even to myself," he admitted, then looked down, mentally kicking himself. He was so confident when he was fighting Blade, despite never having fought someone so strong before. He was even more confident when he had confronted Nyssa briefly. But with Meira, with her respect and pretty, wild hair, curved lips, and icy eyes, Nomak was back to the child in that small, bleak room. Eager to please yet hesitant for fear of failing.

Meira merely smiled though, and Nomak felt that familiar, soothing sensation she could give him. There was something in her eyes that told him she hadn't lost her respect, that it hadn't been tainted with pity or confusion or contempt at what some might think was weakness. It was just, friendly. Not understanding, but as close as she could get without lying.

"I'll get to the point now, but please don't think too harshly on Ulric," she finally spoke up again, and Nomak nodded, her eyes still icy and clear and focused on her. "He had you captured because he wants your help. He wants to wipe out the vampiric race, Nomak, he wants to kill your father. And he thought you would be eager to help. He wants to destroy the rest of the reapers and then wipe out the vampires. He wants your cooperation, allow myself and Karen to run some tests so we know your strengths, weaknesses, the changes in your DNA, for you to help us infiltrate Caliban Industries, he's not even going to try and stop you from killing Damaskinos," Meira explained.

Nomak blinked, listening. Taking every word in, processing it, and then trying to decide if this was good, or if he was just to be a puppet for someone else now. He decided to go with it for now. Yes, Ulric only wanted him to use him, but it was to use Nomak in achieving almost the same goals Nomak had himself.

Why shouldn't he help Ulric then? The male werewolf would probably make Nomak's mission easier.

"In return to helping him and letting us run some tests, he's offering the chance at a cure."

That last statement was such a blow to Nomak's mind that he lost control on his body practically. He went from looking almost completely normal, to looking like a normal reaper. His mouth nearly fell open, bloodshot eyes wide and staring with shock and fragile hope.

"A cure," he whispered, staring at the floor, trying to wrap his mind around the possibility of returning to the state of living he'd once been in. Of existing without constant pain, constant hunger, a perpetual fever that never killed him. He had never even thought of a cure before, he had known it would never happen, Damaskinos would never be concerned with curing Nomak, only terminating him.

Now though, now Meira and Ulric, the werewolves that he was staying with, that were sheltering him in return for his help in achieving a goal that was Nomak's own revenge, now they were offering a chance of life without agony. A life he could actually live, one he wouldn't seek to escape once his only desires were fulfilled.

It was too good to be true, and Nomak was suddenly fearful something would shatter.

"There's more, isn't there?" Nomak asked, his whole demeanor saying that he knew something would shatter this dream. He looked up, forcing himself to meet Meira's eyes again. He wanted to hide and curl up, but he wouldn't act a coward. Especially in front of her, in front of respect.

Meira gave a half shrug, shaking her head. "There's the chance we won't be able to cure you, but otherwise, Ulric wants nothing more of you," she stated. There was something in her words though. Something in the way she said there was nothing more _Ulric_ wanted of him.

Warning signals went off in Nomak's head abruptly, and he stood. He turned from Meira. The reaper took a few steps from her, arms folding over his chest. "You want something from me, don't you?" he whispered, not turning towards her again, this time his fear too great. _You don't respect me, you want something of me._

"I didn't say that."

"Yet you sound as though it's a truth you didn't want."

There was a palpable silence hanging over them for several minutes. Neither of them made any comment, not even any movements, except their breathing.

Finally, Nomak heard Meira stand. She walked over to him, but he remained standing with his back to her, ramrod straight. A hand laid on his shoulder, and he angrily jerked away, facing her at that.

"What do you want from me! What is the price of your respect, Princess, just what do you expect me to do just so I can have something I've wanted for years!" he demanded, shouting loud enough that his voice didn't sound raspy anymore. His eyes were narrowed, but all he felt was despair. Hatred would come later, but he couldn't call on it just yet. His body wouldn't produce any of what used to be in such large supply.

Biting her lip, Meira lowered her head. It seemed now she wasn't the one who could face him, couldn't keep their gazes locked. "I, I didn't want this originally, I didn't think I would have ever wanted this," she started, reluctantly meeting his gaze again. "This isn't the price of my respect, Jared, it isn't. I respect you, I will even if you say no."

Nomak's lip curled and he snorted in derision, but he didn't vocalize his disagreement any more than that.

"I," Meira started up again, then paused. She looked as though she regretted ever wanting whatever she wanted, and for a moment Nomak hoped she would drop it. She looked close to, and then she abruptly blurted what she wanted.

"I want to mate with you."

She stated it bluntly, abruptly, and yet, if she had worded it long and fancy and dragged it out into a long, in-depth explanation that lasted twenty minutes, Nomak still would have been taken aback by the end of it. She hadn't yelled it out or whispered it, she had just stated it, reluctantly and swiftly, but it was still stated as though it was more normal and obvious than it really was.

"Get out."

"I want to explain."

"Get. Out."

"Vladimir wants me, Jared, I wanted something to get him off me, afterwards you could hate me and never speak to me again, I'll still respect you, I'll still be your mate and won't have to worry about Vladimir's attempts at claiming me. I want you because, because I respect you, because you're one of the few people who would even dare to talk back to Vladimir, much less fight him!"

"I said get out."

Meira swallowed and nodded. She looked as though she wanted to take back every word she'd said, but she couldn't. It looked as though she suddenly realized she had shattered that dream she herself had given Nomak.

Without speaking anymore, Meira walked past Nomak, heading for the door. She glanced back at him once, he could tell, and when she closed the door she was looking at him the whole time. She walked away slowly, her soft footsteps several moments in-between, as if regret weighed her down.

Once he couldn't hear her anymore, Nomak moved finally. He slammed his fist into the wall, pain shooting through his arm and then fading within two seconds. He punched the wall again, again, again. He kicked the chair he'd been sitting in, smashed the one Meira had claimed. He ripped it to pieces, tossing another one at the wall and listening to it shatter and splinter.

The small desk was the next thing to go. He crushed the middle with both fists, bringing them down and breaking it in half. He kicked the legs off two at a time, then threw the two half at opposite walls. He abruptly shouted with rage and went at the bed, turning it onto its side roughly, yanking the cover and sheets off, shredding them and tearing open the mattress. Pieces of mattress and pillows went every where, the wood of the bed frame was soon nothing but chunks and splinters.

After Nomak had ruined all the furniture in the bedroom, he attacked the walls again. Slamming himself into them, punching, kicking, head-butting, elbowing. He attacked them as if they were the causes of the horrid feeling inside him. As if destroying his room would ease the sharp pain inside caused by an unfamiliar and hated despair, a loss of something he had barely had time to hold.

When his body ached so badly he thought he would finally die like the others, Nomak collapsed to the floor. Seven feet away the bags of blood laid on the floor, forgotten. He didn't know when he'd dropped them. He didn't care that he had them.

Turning his back to the blood, Nomak laid on his side, curling up. His legs and arms pressed to his chest, hands tucking under his chin. He closed his eyes, shutting everything out. His body shuddered as if he was crying, but nothing left his eyes, and he didn't make a sound. Sticky, yellow blood stained his clothing, hands, and head, and his body cried out for the blood only a few feet away.

Nomak didn't move though, except for the slight shuddering.


	13. Confused & Dysfunctional pt 1

A/N: Finally! An update! Sorry it took me so long. About two months ago, this chapter was completed, and then my floppy disc screwed up, and I lost it. Since then, this chapter and the whole story have gone through a whole, frigging bunch of changes, for the better I think. So finally I've got this chapter done, though I may go back and re-edit a few things later on. Not a definite decision yet, but it may undergo some changes. **Also, if you did not read the updated version of the previous chapter, go back and reread it! **Two scenes have been added, one with Lighthammer and one with Nomak and Meira. All right, I think that's all I need to cover this chapter. Thank you all for the reviews, they've been great. Please keep them coming, I really love getting the feedback. J

Disclaimer: Okay, I own most of the werewolves. But other than that? Nope, not a thing. Though I'd gladly take care of Nomak.

* * *

**CHAPTER TWELVE: CONFUSED AND DYSFUNCTIONAL; PT. ONE**

The lights turned out, so that only filtered daylight kept the room from being washed in complete darkness, Blade sat in silence. Well, tried to. But the suckheads down below had the TV on, and not only was the volume turned up to an obscene level for those with heightened senses, but trailer park Hitler couldn't keep his damn mouth shut.

Blade was not in the mood to hear Reinhardt's commentary on how he wished they could get Cartoon Network and not just DVDs of their crappy shows. He had no idea what Aqua Teen Hunger Force was, nor did he want it on in his current residency if Reinhardt was curious about it.

A long, heavy sigh broke the near silence in the room itself. Blade was tired, sore, worried, and he had Scud's death on his hands now. There was a part of him that said he shouldn't feel guilty over it, considering Scud had become a Familiar. However, the Daywalker couldn't quite keep himself from feeling as detached from Scud's death as he thought he should feel.

Blade and Scud had never been close. Blade and Scud had never really bonded, had never gotten a connection like Whistler and Blade had developed. Blade and Scud didn't even really talk. At all. And Blade had known all along Scud would betray him.

He supposed he felt guilty because part of him still wondered if it had been his fault Scud had been turned against him.

About a month after Whistler's death and turning, Blade and Karen had split up. She'd been able to give him a better serum, at least. However it was only two days after that they had parted ways. They'd come across a Familiar being beaten by her Handler, and Blade had wanted to kill the both of them.

Karen had then proven that she could be as predictable and, in Blade's mind, weak as most other women. She'd put her foot down, and she had made it clear that to kill the Familiar, Blade would have to kill Karen first. She'd stood right between Blade and the willing pet of a vampire, and stared him right in the eyes.

He still remembered the look in her eyes. She'd been fearful, she'd seen what he could and would do. He had shown her that only Whistler was his weakness, and then he'd made it clear that if he had to, he would kill Whistler. He had made it clear Familiars deserved no mercy in his mind, and that he could kill them and vampires without anyone, anyone, getting in his way.

Karen had stood there, knowing there was a chance he would kill her, or get her out of the way and kill the Familiar before she could react. And they had both known he was capable of both.

Except when Blade had moved his arm, raising his sword to throw it past Karen and into the Familiar's head, he had ended up sheathing it instead. He remembered the surprise and relief mingled in Karen's eyes, heard the thankful sigh that turned into a sob from the cowering Familiar. He just couldn't kill Karen, and even more strange and in many ways pathetic, he realized he didn't want to part ways with her hating him.

Even now, with his mind conflicted and reeling, he knew he'd made the right choice, as far as he and Karen were concerned. He could never be with her, they just couldn't remain together without too many compromises, but he couldn't live life with her hating him. The very knowledge alone would eat at him, even if she wasn't around.

So he had left her with a few weapons, knowing she could handle herself, and left. Spent less than two weeks on his own before he found Scud as he nearly became a large bag of licorice for vampires. He'd taken Scud under his wing, so to speak. He'd probably been an even gruffer teacher than Whistler, but at least Scud had a somewhat safe place to stay and was learning how to protect himself.

Blade had lucked out with Scud. He was almost surprised that Scud wasn't a Familiar to start with. Blade had ended up saving someone who looked like a druggie, but was in actuality, a geek. Not to mention a semi-decent mechanic - though nowhere near as good as Whistler.

Blade winced slightly, as if thinking about his missing friend was painful. He supposed it was. He had no idea how the werewolves were really treating Whistler, if Whistler was even still alive - if Whistler was even still human. Blade had just gotten him back, and now, now Whistler was in the hands of an even worse threat than the reapers.

And Blade was spending too much of his time thinking about Nyssa and vampires and himself when he should have been concerned only with his old mentor.

There was a slight growl that emerged from Blade's clenched jaw. His hands balled into fists and he slammed them onto his knees. The pain of his own hits went through him with almost bone-crushing force, yet all Blade could think about was how he wished for peace.

Selfishly and, even though he wouldn't openly admit it, unfairly, Blade blamed Nyssa for this confusion in his head. He knew, he really did, that it wasn't _completely _her fault. But it was easier for him to blame her entirely, and it helped him try distance himself from her. He was getting too close, especially their last time alone.

Everything used to be black and white. And then he'd met Karen. There had been more and more shades of grey since meeting her. And now he didn't even know which side was black and which was white, or if that was even appropriate and not some racist bullshit made up by some rich, stuffy, white guy. Not that he ever really got into humans' racism, because he was involved in bigger racism, still. He encountered it, he knew it existed.

Blade's fingers uncurled, his elbows moving to rest on his still stinging knees. He ignored the added pain and placed his head in his hands. He was losing his cool, and that blasted cartoon show, and the even more blasted vampire Nazi, were both pushing him closer to just going into a frenzy.

_This place stinks of suck heads, Whistler's missing, I have to deal with werewolves now, Scud's dead, and that damned vampire will not shut up. So why am I even giving her more of my sanity?_

Rising, Blade walked over to the middle of his floor and dropped down, immediately falling into place to do push-ups. Perhaps a bit of exercise would help him cool down and clear his head.

* * *

Silence and darkness were all that existed Nomak outside his head, his body, the pain of both. It was as if his room - though it couldn't even be called his, could it? - had become a void for him to hide in, a tiny, little realm of oblivion for the time being, where he could slip into nonexistence for at least a little while.

The reaper had long since collapsed from his outbursts. His first one had been the most violent one, done the most damage. Then for nearly an hour he had laid there, until finally gathering the strength to reach over for the bags of blood Meira had left him. The blood had warmed and was worse than the blood of a sick human. It had tasted thick, spoiled, congealed. and his mouth was still dry with the aftertaste of ash.

But it had given him more strength, helped rejuvenate him, ease a tiny bit of his fever and thirst. Then he had sunk into another outburst, until finally everything had been reduced to splinters and shreds. His lights wouldn't come on anymore, not that he wanted them to. His eyes couldn't take the brightness anymore, and he didn't want to see the yellow blood he knew covered most everything.

Nomak was weaker than he'd ever been. He hadn't gone to search for more blood since the second outburst. He had gone over an hour since the blood Meira had given him, and he didn't want anymore. He wanted to lie there, let himself slowly slip into that sweet, sweet ignorance and stupidity and insanity that all the other reapers were constantly in.

It was better than the pain in his body, or worse, the pain in his head. Or even worse.

The severe ache in what he couldn't only describe as his soul.

Jared Nomak had wanted two things his whole life, just two things. He had wanted his family's love, acceptance, acknowledgement, some sort of affection and welcome.

The second thing was respect. He had so wanted his father's respect. He had never complained about his lack of freedom, about never meeting Nyssa. He kept his pain hidden when the tests performed on him hurt, or ached, or burned. He never asked for more to drink, never said he was hungry even at times when he wanted blood so much he longed to feed on the scientists around him. All to earn his father's respect. If he could not have his father's love, he could at least have Damaskinos' respect, could prove to his father that he was a worthy son.

Yet Father had shunned him, had barely acknowledged the blood their shared, the truth of their kinship. Damaskinos had done test after test after test, and when Nomak wasn't being tested on, he was being filled with information. Much of it by tutors, or the doctors and scientists that worked on him.

Nomak remembered a time, long ago, when he was very little. When his father had shown some sort of kindness, of acceptance, to placate the boy Nomak could barely remembered being. The memory was fuzzy at best, but he remembered sitting on his father's lap, and he remembered his father's voice had been gentle, patient.

Nomak moaned on the floor. The pain of the memory never lessened, and he ached for that time again. He ached to be a child, an innocent, ignorant child, once more. His father had almost loved him, once upon a time, and then when Nomak no longer needed his father's love to survive, to endure, Damaskinos had hardened his vampiric heart once more.

And he wouldn't even spare a single moment of respect, a tiny shred of it. His only son, and Nomak had never seen respect or pride in Damaskinos at how his son sucked his breath in, swallowed his sobs, bit down his whimpers.

Then Meira had to come along, and her kind, and her blasted leader, and her blasted suitor, and her blasted promise of hope, of respect. Her distractions, the way she could tempt his mind from his revenge, the one thing he wanted now. The one thing he could indeed have, she had muddled it with confusion and hope and longing, and then almost as soon as he had found that hope and latched onto it, she had pried his hands off of it and crushed it. Smashed it into tiny pieces right in front of his eyes, then made a show of desecrating the remains.

He ached from it. He was sore and tender and raw, and he wanted to escape from it. He wanted to just give in to that sweet, soothing voice in his head. The one that told him, "Let it go. Let everything go, and forget. Forget who and what you are, let this disease inside you erase your memories, erase your pain. Give in, succumb, lie down until you can't feel it hurting anymore."

Something, though, refused to give in. Something inside Nomak was fighting the insanity and bloodlust, the unbearable craving, off. Some part of him kept seeing his father, kept hearing his scornful words, the order to terminate the project, the casual dismissal, the lack of concern or sorrow or grief or regret in his eyes.

And even though he should have been well beyond the point of rescue and return, Jared Nomak was still himself. He was still Jared Nomak, son of Eli Damaskinos, heir to the vampiric throne, a prince, brother of Nyssa, and above all, the progenitor of the reaper race.

He was above this.

He was better than this.

Nomak would not allow himself to give in because of Meira, not even because of the Daywalker or Nyssa, or even Father. His will and his hatred wasn't about to let him become a rabid dog over a broken heart.

Moving as if he was weighed down, Nomak rolled onto his stomach. He placed his hands flat on the floor and pushed himself up, grunting form the exertion. He was sore and stiff and could barely move at this point. The hunger and pain was so fierce that to keep down his cries of pain, he had to bite his tongue so hard he almost bit the front half off. His face scrunched up in disgust at the sticky, near tasteless blood that oozed from the wound.

He was in sorry condition, and he was more vulnerable than ever since his escape. Yet he forced himself to his feet, and willed his legs to obey the command to walk. He held his head high and swallowed his feverish blood, if it could even be called blood anymore.

The reaper stumbled out of the remains of the guest quarters he'd been given. The light hurt his eyes, exposed his bruised skin, his body unable to heal as swiftly and efficiently as normal from the lack of blood. He held out his hands to steady himself against the wall. Head still high though, he walked as best he could in the direction opposite the way Meira had left. The once handsome, strong, and shy prince stumbled down the hallway with a bitterness and contempt more befitting someone of his birthright.

_What doesn't kill you_, he thought to himself. His father had told Nomak once, "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger." And Nomak had kept that saying close to his heart from that day forward. Meira's damage was thorough, painful, and gut-wrenching for Nomak. A betrayal he'd foolishly hoped wouldn't come, and one that had done more than he'd feared.

But he was not going to let some lycanthropic bitch cripple him, and he was not going to let himself sink as low as the rest of his kind. He was better than that.

Better than Blade.

Better than Ulric.

Better than Vladimir.

Better than Meira.

Better than Nyssa.

_Better than Father._

Oh, how his father must want Nomak to sink into that state of mind. To lose his sanity, his reason, his self. To no longer be a threat to Damaskinos' reputation and position. For all the information in his mind to be lost to blind hunger.

He probably expected Nomak to become like the others. Probably thought it was assured the longer Nomak lived. Damaskinos probably thought Nomak was too weak to sustain this pain for this long. Father probably hoped his son would prove to be an even bigger failure, probably expected it more than hoped. He had shown Nomak that every attempt to earn respect had failed as miserably as the tests Nomak had endured.

_Wait till you see me, Father. Wait till you see how I have beaten this, used it. Just wait. Soon your blood will be on my lips, and I'll see the fear in your eyes I know you must feel. I will smell it, taste it, and revel in it. I will let myself get drunk on it, and it will make up for all you've done. Because you will die watching me smile, intoxicated with the only thing I want from you now._

_

* * *

_

Nyssa stared into the dirty mirror as cold water dripped from her face. She splashed more on, then finally turned the faucet off. Shaking most of the water off her hands, she reached over for a grungy looking hand towel. The vampire warrior bit back her disgust and dried her face as best she could.

It wasn't like she would get sick from it or anything.

She had come into the bathroom area of Blade's hideout to try and refresh herself. Maybe even clear her head a little. Instead she'd been faced with seeing some of Scud's dirty clothing, a few items from her fallen comrades, and even remnants of what must have been Lighthammer's blood after the mutation had taken effect.

The scientist part of her had been completely fascinated, and she'd been thankful for that. Thoughts of Lighthammer and how he had become what he was now, why he wasn't mindless, why it didn't hurt him as it had Priest, had kept her in a clinical state of mind. Kept her thoughts from becoming personal, confused, and hard for her to bear.

After all that had happened, she needed her head clear, mind alert, sharp.

So far, Nyssa had figured that the reaper mutation was different for everyone. Some fell victim to the horrendous, excruciating change Priest had gone through. Others suffered only minor pain, while some didn't really suffer at all until the change was complete, their bodies adjusting slowly, so that when they finally were completely reaper, they were used to the change in their body.

It was times like these that Nyssa was grateful to her father for making her learn science when she wasn't honing her fighting skills.

As for how Lighthammer could retain some of himself, Nyssa had decided either a) all reapers retained some of their minds for a short while after their turning or b) if they fed enough then they retained more and more of their actual selves. If Lighthammer had fed often enough after his turning, it was likely that he had kept some of his self, enough of who he had been to still act like Lighthammer to a degree, and not a mindless, overactive vampire-zombie.

That was what she had come up with so far, anyway.

_Perhaps I should go and talk with Blade. Inform him of my theories, see if he has any input. Or maybe he'll just grunt, shrug it off, and say if it doesn't help him kill things, it doesn't matter, _she thought bitterly.

_No. That's not fair, _she then reprimanded herself. _Blade has shown far more intelligence than I ever thought he possessed, and he even figured out many things about the reapers before I did. He has honor, dignity. His hatred for us hasn't yet taken that from him. But why must he hate us so?_

Nyssa wouldn't let her mind voice the question she knew she really was thinking.

Why did he have to hate her so?

Sighing and reluctantly admitting that she needed to go sit down for a while, Nyssa headed out to join her two remaining comrades. She just hoped Reinhardt would shut up when she came out. She had no idea what had happened to her fellow Bloodpack leader, but ever since the others' deaths, he'd become quite the chatter box.

But then she supposed that with no one else to do the talking, as Snowman certainly wasn't about to speak up, Reinhardt couldn't help the ranting. It was too quiet when he actually did shut up.

Nyssa closed her eyes, grieving her fallen friends. Asad's death had hit her the hardest, she would readily admit that. That didn't mean she hadn't felt the bitter ache of loss when the others had died. She felt even worse now, with Blade shutting her out, and Lighthammer being the very thing they had to hunt and destroy.

Especially being such a powerful one.

* * *

Whistler stood at the only window in the lab room Karen had left him in. It was adjacent to the one he'd woken up in, only not as sterile feeling, a little bigger, and there were no uptight mutts to lecture him on his language.

A few minutes ago Karen had left to go see how her friend was doing. Probably a good thing, judging by the way her friend had acted. Not to mention, she hadn't been back, and Karen had gotten a feeling her friend, Meira, was going to be back quicker if everything went well.

Things never went well though. Whistler could testify to that.

Sighing, the old man walked back over to one of the semi-comfortable chairs in the room. He sat down, wincing slightly when his leg flared up, and laid his head back to get some rest. After all he'd learned, all that had happened, he needed some rest. Though he was loathe to admit it, he was getting too old for all this shit.

Not to mention he was worried sick about Blade.

Karen had known, too, and she'd tried to make the old man's fears go away. But he'd lost a family to the vampires, given up another shot because of them, and now Blade was alone among them. Well, there was Scud, but Whistler doubted Scud could help Blade against the vampires. Or the reapers, for that matter.

Definitely not the reapers.

They weren't what scared Whistler though. They were mean, nasty, and pretty one-track minded, but they weren't smart or clever enough to get under Blade's skin. Not even Nomak could do the same kind of damage as that brat sister of his - if what Karen had explained was indeed true, and Whistler had a damn good feeling it was.

Nomak wanted revenge. Nyssa and her "friends" wanted to bring Blade down, and judging by who their boss was and what Whistler had seen of them, they would do so any means necessary. Even if it was the sneaky way.

Whistler just hoped Blade didn't lower his defenses anymore. He didn't want the kid's heart broken, and he certainly didn't want it run through. He could still remember the almost rabid teenager he'd discovered, the sun shining down on bared fangs. First time Whistler had seen fangs in the daylight, and he hadn't liked it one bit.

First thing he'd thought was that somehow, vampires had beaten the daylight weakness. He'd certainly been a lot happier to discover the kid was just a half vampire. After that, the two had barely parted company for more than a couple of months at a time, up until Frost and his thugs had taken Karen and left him to turn.

Whistler grimaced, those memories not too pleasant. He'd tried to keep himself from turning. Death was better than that. Better than becoming one of those suck heads, another creature to kill someone else's family. Well, he supposed he did owe Damaskinos one "Thank you" amongst all the "Fuck yous". If the marble statue hadn't sent vampires to take him, he might have done exactly what he'd suffered through.

The sound of someone falling against the door jerked Whistler out of his thoughts, and he glanced at the door with a scowl, slowly getting up. There was silence after the fall, and for a moment he wondered if he was starting to hear things that weren't really there. But before he could sit back down, three loud, hard knocks pounded in his ears.

It sounded more like someone's skull was falling against the door three times, not someone hitting the door with their fist or knuckles.

Walking over to the door as quick as he could, Whistler opened it to find a reaper leaning against it. The reaper slid down as the door's support was moved away. Eyes closed, head back as if he couldn't hold it up, the reaper abruptly started laughing.

_Well, I have a pretty good idea who this is. Didn't know he'd lost his mind though._

The reaper, who had to be Nomak, clutched his stomach as he laughed and laughed, and Whistler could tell the boy was definitely in hysterics. Not to mention he looked worse than the other reapers. His skin was paler, his veins even more visible, his eyes were sunken in and looked as if they'd both been punched repeatedly. He had hundreds of visible scars, and he was covered with a sticky, amber ooze.

Reaching down, Whistler grabbed Nomak by the shoulders, his grip firm as he gave the reaper a good, brief shake.

"Nomak," he said. His voice was loud and clear and firm, and seemed to get through to the reaper. He watched as the original reaper, who looked younger than Blade and at this moment, more fragile than he really was, slowly calmed down. "Nomak, snap out of it. What's going on?"

Whistler doubted it was anything big - he had a suspicion that the werewolves would have some kind of alarm and their own army running around if there was a big emergency. However something was obviously wrong with the reaper, besides the mutation in his body. None of the other reapers acted this way, and Nomak hadn't acted this way at all when Blade had dealt with him.

In fact, Blade had said this reaper was not only intelligent, but he was a swift learner even in battle. It had annoyed Blade.

A lot.

The hoarse laughter dying down, Nomak finally opened his eyes. He looked up at Whistler, and the old man studied the reaper's gaze. Pale, almost colorless irises circled tiny pupils, and though he wasn't squinting, Whistler got the impression the light was more than bright enough for the reaper's tastes. The irises were surrounded by more crimson than white, his veins enlarged and taking over the eyes practically.

What Whistler noticed most about Nomak's gaze though, was the questioning, hopeful, and fearful look it held. He felt like he was staring down at a child, not a grown man who was the progenitor of a race of mutated vampires.

"You don't hate me?"

That question blind-sided Whistler. He hadn't expected that from the young male at his feet, hadn't expected that look, hadn't expected any of it. He supposed he hadn't really had much expectations period, but this, this took him back completely.

He hid his surprise, and his uncertainty regarding the answer, with a scowl. "Come on, let's get you in here and somewhere more comfortable than that floor," he stated calmly, and moved his grip down to under Nomak's biceps.

The reaper carried most of his weight, and despite the weakened condition he appeared to be in, could probably have picked himself up on his own. But he seemed to be purposefully leaning into Whistler, allowing the human to help him up. He acted as though he wanted someone to help him, whether he needed it or not.

Maybe he really did need it. Just not for quite the same reason Whistler had intended.

"Thank you," Nomak whispered hoarsely, and he stared at Whistler. That pale, milky gaze was piercing, studying, seizing Whistler up and watching with fascination. He looked so old and so young at the same time, and Whistler found himself pondering over the reaper's question.

Did Whistler hate him?

No, he couldn't say that he did. When he'd watched that tape of Nomak, he'd felt a strange sort of satisfaction, watching the vampires squirm, watching something feed off of them for a change. When he'd heard their offer, he had wanted to scoff at it and throw it in Damaskinos' face. When Blade had accepted, Whistler had thought it stupid - why not let them finish off the suck heads, then take them out? If they even were that dangerous.

Whistler had loved the fact that now there was something to make the vampires sweat, to make them feel the way humans felt when they learned of vampires and didn't go down the Familiar road.

And after Blade had explained what had happened when he and Nomak had met, Whistler had wanted to smack Blade upside the head for not taking Nomak's offer. Now, after Karen had explained more of Nomak's history, he realized that would have been the wise thing to do.

In a lot of ways, he supposed Nomak and Blade were similar. But the male he was looking at didn't seem to be the same Nomak Blade had met, or the one on the tape. He wasn't like the Blade of today. Right now, he was the Blade Whistler had discovered on the streets, the one who wasn't fully sure of himself, who had nobody and nothing. Just the clothes on his back and the power in his body.

"You're welcome," Whistler replied, and led Nomak to the chair he'd been sitting in earlier. He claimed the one across from it, and plopped down with a grimace. Then he looked over at the reaper, studying him again.

Nomak glanced around the room, taking in the sight of everything. His gaze lingered on the fridge, longing and contempt mingled in his eyes now. Then he looked back at Whistler, made direct eye contact for several moments, studying the old man, and then he lowered his head.

"You're Abraham Whistler, Blade's companion."

He didn't ask it, he stated it. When he said the last word, his already hoarse voice became more strained, choked.

Whistler cocked his head at the reaper, nodding. "Yeah, that'd be me. And you're Jared Nomak. Damaskinos' son," he responded, and he got a baleful glare from the reaper now. He saw nothing but hatred in those eyes, his face contorted in rage.

"I am nothing to him. In his mind, I am a project. In my mind, he is a corpse to be buried." Nomak's voice was laced with venom, and he shook slightly, as if his anger was a struggle for him to contain. He stared Whistler down, giving the old man the impression of a snake, coiled and ready to strike.

He wasn't afraid though, because Nomak didn't want to strike at him. He wanted to strike at Damaskinos. He understood the question now, the look earlier, the way Nomak choked on "companion". He should have figured it out already, and he mentally berated himself for not piecing it together sooner.

"You have my vote on that," Whistler muttered, and got up. He knew the kid was thirsty, so he went to the fridge, grabbed a blood bag, and tossed it over. "Go on. I don't squick easy."

Sensing the old man was telling the truth, and obviously grateful for knowing he could feed without getting a grossed out look from Whistler, Nomak tore the bag open. He guzzled the blood down. Once the bag was sucked dry of every drop, Nomak panted slightly as he took in air again. His eyes then darted over to Whistler, checking to make sure the old man hadn't deceived him most likely.

He hadn't. Whistler sat there with his usual scowl-like gaze. He'd never seen someone drink anything that fast, and he found it strange to see this creature so greatly feared being more vulnerable than a five-year old.

"Get more if you need it. I've got a feeling there's plenty more in this place," he commented. He met Nomak's eyes, saw the hunger in them. He felt slightly ill, remembering when he'd suffered from the bloodlust himself, and he almost shuddered. The thought that he would cause damage to Nomak kept him from showing any disgust though, because he had a feeling Nomak would think it was directed at the reaper.

And Whistler didn't want to, upset, Nomak anymore than he already had been so far.

"Why do you not hate me?" Nomak asked, surprising Whistler again. He'd seemed so hungry, Whistler had been certain the reaper would be at the fridge before Whistler could even blink. Instead he just sat there, voicing the question that was more important than filling himself, for some reason.

Pondering over that, Whistler's scowl deepened, and he looked at the table for a moment. He knew Nomak was staring at him, waiting for an answer. He looked up and saw the reaper had a strange mixture of hope and morbid resignation.

"Because," Whistler started, giving Nomak the honest answer that was quite simple really, if anyone actually thought about it. "I have no reason to. You've done nothing to me, you didn't do much to Blade. Hell, you even offered to form an alliance with him." Whistler sighed, studying the kid sitting across from him. "Way I see it, you've been betrayed by your old race, and now you're to them what they are to me, Blade, and anyone else who knows of them and can't do anything about 'em.

"If you had hurt Blade more than a couple cuts and bruises, and a slightly damaged ego," Whistler knew if Blade ever found out he'd said that, the kid would make him regret it, but it was true, "then I'd be right angry with you. But doubt I'd hate you then anyway, unless you somehow managed to kill him."

Nomak stared at Whistler with what could only be shock. Eyes wide, mouth almost hanging open, jaw slack, his whole posture frozen in what had to be the cliché "shocked" pose.

"It's not that big of a deal. I have no reason to hate you, Nomak," Whistler stated, his tone indicating that it was a simple fact. But it was one that you didn't realize until you had to think about it.

Come to think of it, he doubted Blade hated the reaper. Though Blade did think of Nomak with disgust, distaste, and great annoyance. To Blade, Nomak was a monster to be hunted and killed - not necessarily worse than the vampires, but definitely more dangerous.

However, far as Whistler was concerned, Nomak was a boy who had been forced to become a mutation, and who wanted justification for what had happened. But wanted acceptance even more - even if he wouldn't admit it out loud.

_You're getting sentimental in your old age. Last thing you need is another son-figure that could kick your ass and kill you in three seconds flat._

Still, Whistler couldn't help it. He'd lost his first family to vampires and his second had been an accident - one he didn't necessarily regret, but one he couldn't afford - and he'd had to give them up for their own sakes. Blade had lost his mother to a vampire - he still couldn't believe it was Frost - and Nomak had been abandoned by his.

They were just one big, dysfunctional, ragtag, adopted family.

_Yeah. Blade's gonna love that idea. _


End file.
